


The Loneliest People In The Galaxy

by IllegalCerebral



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Developing Friendships, Escape, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Magic, POV Loki (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prison, Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2020-11-08 12:34:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20835539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IllegalCerebral/pseuds/IllegalCerebral
Summary: There are two choices. The first is giving up. He’s halfway there already and the abuse his body and mind suffered during the descent means that if he chose he could simply lie down right here and it would be over quickly. The second choice is pushing on. He is now at the foot of a slope, it would take strength he barely has, but he could climb it, see what’s on the other side. The first choice would be easier and more peaceful. He just wants this all to be over.He starts up the hill. Satisfaction is not in his nature.Loki falls through the void into the darkness of space but it's not Thanos who finds him. Instead Loki is stranded on a desolate and dangerous planet but he's not alone thankfully. Peter Quill is out there too and without quite meaning to Loki stumbles into a new life that's very different from the one he knew.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **I only post my work to AO3 and tumblr. If you find this story posted on other platforms it has been stolen and reposted without my permission **

The stars cut like shards of shattered glass but he knows that can’t be true. It doesn’t matter, it hurts anyway. The fall goes on forever. He burns and he freezes and there is a light so bright that he feels like he’s going to be vaporised. Then comes the darkness. It’s heavy and stale like the rancid breath of a long dormant creature fit only for slithering in dark crevices.

When he finally collides with solid ground his legs have forgotten how to walk or even how to stand. He crawls at first, nails sinking into what feels like mud and using that to drag himself along. Pain is a constant and in a strange way he learns to ignore it. He crawls until his arms almost give out and the mud gives way to something that could almost be grass but it’s stickier with rough spines. They scratch his face and catch under his nails. With the effort of the god he once purported to be he pushes himself to his feet, swaying violently.

The air on this world is thicker than home. The only light comes from a watery moon half hidden under soupy clouds. It bathes everything in a sickly glow. “Everything” does not constitute much. The mud he has dragged himself out of appears to be the remnants of what used to be a lake. About thirty feet away the bones of something serpentine protrude out of the dirt. The horizon is jutted with mountains or at least they look like mountains. Every time he blinks he swears they have moved. The longer he stares the more nauseated he becomes until finally he retches, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground. His throat burns, the stench makes his eyes water. He wants to sob, to scream for his mother, his father, his brother.

_No one would come_.

He wonders briefly if he could draw on his magic. As soon as he tries exhaustion overcomes him. It’d like having a limb that won’t work and this makes him vulnerable in an unfamiliar setting. Why should that scare him, didn’t he want to die? Yes, he wanted to die when he fell, that’s the whole reason he let go. But he is afraid, so afraid and worse than that he’s weak, a target for whatever this alien world holds.

There are two choices. The first is giving up. He’s halfway there already and the abuse his body and mind suffered during the descent means that if he chose he could simply lie down right here and it would be over quickly. The second choice is pushing on. He is now at the foot of a slope, it would take strength he barely has, but he could climb it, see what’s on the other side. The first choice would be easier and more peaceful. He just wants this all to be over.

He starts up the hill. Satisfaction is not in his nature. The moon hangs listlessly in the same position so there is no way of telling how long it takes to him to climb. He keeps stopping and resting but every time he sits down it takes him longer to get back up again. Eventually he reaches the top and he is unsure whether to laugh or cry or throw himself back down and rethink his plan about dying.

Grasslands stretch out before him as far as the eye can see. It’s a flat, bleak landscape with no buildings or plant life or indeed life of any kind. The horizon is completely unmarked, no strange almost-mountains in front of him this time. He resists the urge to look back. The despair he feels is now tinged with spite and though every muscle in his body aches he puts one foot in front of the other and marches onwards. The moon still does not move. There is no breeze and the air remains damp, his clothes stick to his body in the most uncomfortable ways and he wants to scratch his own skin off.

On and on he walks. His discomfort and physical pain are the only things that break up the monotony. It almost becomes comforting until his foot gets caught and a sharp spasm cuts through his back as he is sent flying. The spines in the grass dig into his clothes and any gratitude he felt at being well covered is replaced with frustration as he hears his clothes tear in several places. His hands are not so lucky. Blood coats both palms, scarlet rivulets flooding the lines. He is reminded of his mother then. When he was a child she used to trace the lines on his and his brother’s hands, making up fortunes that grew increasingly silly until the three of them collapsed in a fit of giggles, smothered with kisses.

His heart aches at the thought of her. He screws his eyes shut to banish her caring face. Why couldn’t he have just died? What force in the universe was cruel enough to spare him and then guide him here? Death would have been a far kinder fate.

When he walks now he lurches, the pain in his back is relentless and he feels like he’s on fire. The world around him swims as his vision begins to blur. The ground is marked with more holes like the one he tripped into and at least moving slower means he can avoid them now. That is until they begin to grow larger and closer together, then he is clambering over them, climbing rather than walking. The thick grass hides them and he is not sure whether the illusion of desolation was better than this. When he starts to see things skitter through the grass out of the corner of his eye he decides it definitely was.

Running is not an option but neither is staying there and waiting for the creatures to get closer. The grass around him pulses with their movements and with gritted teeth and burning joints he charges through the pain, leaping over the holes and ditches as the sounds of things with too many legs grows louder. There is cracking sound behind him like the ground is splitting open, the shock waves upset his run but he doesn’t dare look back. There is a hissing noise that echoes though off of what he doesn’t know. He cannot bear to find out. The ground shakes harder and he can no longer keep his balance. A wave of hot breath coats the back of his neck and a shadow descends over him as the creature finally catches up. He stills, readying himself for more pain.

It does not come. Instead he stomach lurches as he is yanked downwards into one of the holes. The idea of falling once more is terrifying but before his mind can even process that he is slammed into the rocky wall, a hand clamped firmly over his mouth. There is no chance to looks at his rescuer – he’s hopeful that’s what this is – before something passes over them and everything is pitch black. Whatever it is, it is long and it takes a while for it to move despite what sounds like multitudes of legs. Finally with the flick of a tail the light is restored.

“They’re blind but their hearing is off the charts” the man whispers as he steps back. He looks upwards and waits a moment before heading down a winding tunnel, a torch held aloft to light the way. He turns back. “You coming?”

Is there a choice? He follows the man, trying to figure out what to say. His brain is more sluggish than he realised.

“I’m Peter by the way, Peter Quill but everybody calls me Starlord” he pauses after that, for dramatic effect possibly. The silence stretches on. “Who are you?”

He swallows. What should he say? He has followed Peter down here but he has no idea whether he is friend or foe. Has he swapped one monster for another?

“Lo-ki” he rasps finally. If he’s honest there are not a lot of options. He has no idea where he is; he has no magic, no weapons, and no means of travel. Worse case scenario is Peter knows exactly who he is and is some enemy of Asgard (a small voice at the back of his head reminds him he’s not Asgardian) who tries to kill him or even worse try and take him home. The universe is a big place though so his name might mean nothing. This could be the opportunity he has craved so long, the chance to be his own man, to be someone new. The uncertainty lays on Loki like a noose around the neck while he waits for the response.

“Pleased to meet you Loki!” Peter grins, “What brings you to this... gorgeous piece of space?”

Now Loki definitely has to lie.

“Stranded” Loki wheezes. The effort sends him into a coughing fit. Peter thrusts a bottle his way as they continue down the tunnel but of taking a swig Loki realises to his dismay it wasn’t water. It tastes closer to engine fuel and his stomach roils. Peter takes the bottle back and gulps it down, seemingly unaffected.

“I’m here on a job” Peter explains, there is a hint of bitterness in his voice but before Loki can get a lock on its source Peter has continued, “Skrull trader wanted me to bring back some gear he claimed he jettisoned when his ship took on damage trying to leave this place. Damage of the creepy crawly kind I’m guessing. Left that part out along with a few other details. Got the gear though but his price is way too low for the risk. Someone else will want it though”

He keeps talking but most of Loki’s concentration is on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping upright and ignoring the pain surging through him. He is acutely aware of the fact that he doesn’t know if Peter is friend or foe yet. A small voice in the back of his head hisses that he never really had friends, Thor had friends, and Loki was always just…there, part of the group by default. They had never really wanted him. Peter at the very least had stopped him being eaten by a monster, granted that is an incredibly low bar for friendship but it was more proactive than anything Sif or the Warriors Three had ever done.

This far underground everything echoes. Loki’s heartbeat feels alien in his ears and a wave of panic rises in his chest.

“My ship is just down here,” Peter says. The pain is worse now but falling behind is not an option.

“Buried?” Loki wheezes.

“Nope. Cavern used by smugglers. That trader gave me a tip. Only good one he offered. Here she is”

The tunnel opens up into a vast cavern, dimly lit but from where Loki can’t see. A spacecraft sits there waiting for them. It’s an M-class ship, the type used by Ravagers. Loki’s no expert but it looks like some modifications have been made over a long period of time, more than a decade, and it’s painted a garish orange and blue.

“The Milano” Peter sweeps his arm across. To Loki’s eyes it doesn’t warrant that tone (can it even get off this planet?) but he isn’t about to jeopardise his only chance of escape.

“Magnificent” Loki wonders briefly if he’s over sold it but Peter’s beaming smile is reassuring.

“I haven’t uh, had a chance to clean” Peter lets them both in, “but you don’t seem like the kind of guy who worries about that”

Looking around at the scraps, stale food, and bits of junk, anger wells up inside Loki until his eyes fall on a filthy looking creature staring back at him with flinty eyes. Nausea follows the realisation that it is him, his reflection in a panel. A layer of grime coats him from head to toe and his face is gaunt with cracked lips and bloodshot eyes. The blood from his palms has smeared over his clothes and there are two more gashes on his forehead and jaw that Loki hadn’t registered. Dried blood coats his matted hair and the side of his face and neck. It’s a hideous sight, like a monster come crawling from the depths of a nightmare.

_That is where you were born after all._

“I have a med kit,” Peter says, shuffling from side to side. Loki senses he is unused to offering comfort, it sits awkwardly in the air before them, “and there’s also a bathroom, kinda, where you can clean yourself up. If you want to”

Loki’s tongue will not obey him. He knows he should say thanks but all he can think of is how he should have chosen differently, he should have laid down and died because this existence can’t be worth fighting for.

“Where…where’s your home?” Peter asks. Despite his casual stance the tension in is body is clear. Loki’s faculties are still cogent enough to spot the tell tale signs of anxiety and discomfort. It’s oddly endearing that this man is seemingly trying to help despite how woefully unequipped he is to do so. “I mean I can drop someplace if you want. I’m heading to Xandar, some other places too…” he trails off.

Home as a concept has very little meaning for Loki now. Asgard is not home, everything he knew about himself, and his family is a lie. His childhood and his bonds with Thor and Frigga were all rooted in deception. He is an enemy of Asgard by blood, a monster who has no place there. Jotunheim is a realm of beasts that abandoned him to die as a helpless infant. Also he murdered their king (_your father_) so he doubts he would be welcomed with open arms.

“Nowhere” Loki sags, his voice cracking. No, he will not weep in front of a stranger. He will not show weakness. Whatever his cursed lineage he was raised as a prince and he will act as one. Princes do not sob.

“Oh Knowhere!” Peter immediately brightens, “The head with the market and bars and the whole wretched hive of scum and villainy vibe? Yeah I know it” Peter’s body deflates a little with relief and Loki cannot bear to correct him. He moves to speak but a rattling sound escapes his lips and his legs give way as darkness sweeps over him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki reflects on his current situation

He does not dream and later, much later, Loki will realise that it was a blessing. Instead his sleep is a molasses-thick haze with no discernable shape and it takes a while for him to extricate himself. There is something soft under his head but the pain in his hip and elbow alert him to the fact his body is lying on something hard. His eyes are gritty and with slow, sluggish movements Loki pushes himself up and peers around through bleary eyes. A lumbering fear wells up in him because he recognises nothing but his legs will not obey when he tries to stand.

“You’re awake!” an exclamation makes him turns but the movement brings on a wave of nausea. Peter grins at him from the pilot’s seat and suddenly everything comes rushing back to Loki. He swallows to regain his composure and rubs his eyes with a trembling hand.

“Sorry I must have-“

“You passed out. Honestly I think it actually might have been a good thing because you slept like ten hours and I kept checking you were still breathing and you seemed fine.”

Fine does not strike Loki as an adequate description of his current physical or mental state. The softness under his head is Peter’s jacket, it makes Loki feel odd as he folds it up haphazardly and lays it over the co-pilot’s seat next to Peter.

“Where are we?”

“About a day out from a little outpost on the edge of territory controlled by the Nova Empire” says Peter, pointing to a star chart on the monitor, “I need to refuel and there should be someone there who wants this stupid Kree gear.”

“Wait” a thought stirs in the languid depths of Loki’s mind, “the Nova and Kree empires are at war.”

“There’s talk of some peace treaty” Peter shrugs, “but for the moment this gear is worth it’s weight in gold to the right people,” he stops and looks at Loki wide eyed.

“If you’re thinking I’m going to rob you,” Loki says drily, “I can assure you I am in no fit state but you may find it useful to have a second pair of hands when we reach the outpost. Will you allow me to repay your help?”

He was brought up with a strict Asgardian moral code; the rules of hospitality and reciprocity are taken seriously. He is acutely aware that even by that logic many of his own people would not have done what Peter did. They would have seen someone who fell short of the standards of a warrior and in the heat of the fight with those beasts decided that the Norns had made their will known and left him to die. There is also a small part of Loki, that he cannot bear to acknowledge, which doesn’t want to be alone.

“Um” Peter’s gaze sweeps up and down, “Can you fight or anything? I guess you can hold a blaster…”

“I can defend myself” Loki said, quickly, “Obviously I am not usually so…” he waves his hand down his body. If he wasn’t caked in grime his cheeks would be flushed red. Such weakness is abhorrent.

“I guess you can join my crew on a probationary basis” Peter leans back in the tattered chair, “You should probably clean up though. This place isn’t fancy but you might raise a few eyebrows. I stuck the medkit in the fresher along with some spare clothes. I washed them too!” Loki nods and heads to the back of the ship where Peter points towards a fresher. He pauses.

“Thank you.”

Peter blinks.

“No problem man.”

The fresher is in a far better state than Loki dared to hope. Evidently at some point Peter invested in a self-cleaning system and a synthetic, sickly, floral smell hangs in the air. The light is harsh and Loki flinches from his reflection in the mirror. He never thought of himself as vain, though Thor and his father would tease him about his fussiness over his appearance. Loki liked things ordered and neat and he held himself to those same standards. What he sees in the mirror now is anything but. The image sucks him in. All his failings have manifested physically. He is dirty, broken, and weak inside and out.

Tentatively he reaches inside himself and searches for his magic. It has always run through him like a second heartbeat, completely inextricable from himself. At the same time he reaches outwards into the universe. Magic is the connection of the self with something bigger, his mother always said. A skilled magician can use that connection to do almost anything. The universe is out of reach; instead of the hum of energy he usually feels there is only silence. His internal exploration yields a little more but that is almost a greater disappointment. The magic is there, his worst fear has not been realised, but it lies dormant like it is exhausted. Loki wants to sob as he tries and fails over and over again to jolt it into action. He carefully picks over every sensation, tries the most basic exercises to stir his magic into a response. He tries little games his mother first taught him as a child but nothing works.

He finally gives up, there is a real danger of physical exhaustion; but then Loki notices something faint at the edges of his perception. There is some residue, a charm that must have manifested without him realising as he fell from the Bifrost.

He is cloaked.

Realisation dawns on him, Heimdall cannot see him. That is why rescue never came. In that moment Loki doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. The charm is one he learnt very early on and used extensively, even once he had mastered world walking, slipping between the cracks of space beyond the gatekeeper’s gaze and folding time and space to move wherever he wished. It is complicated magic but even after mastering it hiding himself was a useful tool and one that he could employ without much concentration. Using the charm as he fell must have been a reflex of sorts and now his magic is…whatever it is, the charm is firmly fixed in place and Asgard has no idea where he was.

_They think I am dead…_

Loki studies his refection again. He is not sure how he feels. There is a gaping hole inside him where regret or elation or sadness or anger should be. All there is is void.

“One hysterical episode seems enough for today,” Loki hisses at the mirror. He pulls his knives from inside his coat and sets them on the shelf above the sink. When he told Peter he could defend himself he had primarily been thinking of his magic. In truth, while it was far and away his strongest weapon, he had never been foolish enough to rely on it alone. Also his father and Thor would never have let him get away with refusing weapons training. The thought of the Allfather, his shame and his disappointment, makes bile well up in Loki’s throat. Would he mourn? Would he be glad that the proof of his mistakes was finally gone?

What would his mother say?

There is too much to deal with there so he shoves it all to one side and begins the arduous task of peeling off his clothes. They are almost solid from the dirt and the blood so it takes what feels like forever. Peeling each layer away from his skin stings and there are injuries he hadn’t registered before now. The pain is excruciating but it’s a welcome distraction. At least naked he looks ever so slightly less filthy, he thinks as he shoves the clothes into a small washing unit by the sink. It hums pleasantly, sending more of the floral smell into the air.

The shower is easy enough to work but nothing prepares him for the heat of the water. His entire body lurches and he ends up on the tiled floor, water in his mouth and eyes. Through the door he hears a muffled ‘everything okay in there?’

“Y-y-yes,” he splutters. He is damned, the Norns hate him and that is why is has been cursed to endure this mortifying ordeal. Staying on the floor seems an attractive option but the cut on his head has reopened and his limbs throb.

With great effort Loki pushes himself up, bracing himself against the water and wiping the blood from his cut out of his eyes. There are a few bottles with faded labels and some careful examination leads to him pouring some sweet, lurid pink liquid into his palm. It lathers up nicely, the bubbles feeling like silk. Loki avoids the cuts on his head and body as he rubs away the dirt; the pink bubbles mix with the black water to make an unpleasant looking pool at his feet. After that he starts on his hair, again avoiding the cut on his head. Thankfully it has stopped bleeding and the feeling of a clean scalp is nothing short of paradise. He runs his fingers through his hair with no snagging. It reminds him of when his mother used to brush his hair as a child.

It is a long time before the water runs clear and now dark bruises are visible on his torso and legs. Loki prods his stomach, its not hard so there’s no internal bleeding but it aches and nausea bubbles inside him. The heat is making him a little dizzy. Stepping out of the fresher the cold air hits him, sharpening his senses.

The figure in the mirror now is much more respectable if still a little sickly looking. There are dark circles under his eyes; his lips are chapped and pale. There is an antiseptic cream that makes the cut on his head smart and a thick padded plaster that seals it. He repeats the action on the smaller cuts on his arms and legs and then smears an anti-irritant on his scratched palms, wrapping his hands. For the bruises on his body and legs he dabs on a sweet smelling salve. The contents of the med kit are almost empty when Loki is done and his feels a little ridiculous. The feeling is exacerbated when he pulls on Peter’s clothes. They hang a little large on him due to Peter’s bigger build and he has no idea what the picture on the shirt is supposed to be. He misses the comforting heaviness of Asgardian leather. The boots are warm and solid though they are also a little tight and the trousers are ever so slightly to short. All in all though he is clean and comfortable and with a jolt of surprise Loki realises how much better that makes him feel.

Almost.

The man in the mirror looks somewhat out of place in his surroundings. He is a stranger to himself.

“Time to chose,” Loki murmurs softly to his reflection. He is not weak, no matter what anyone says. A weak man could not have survived the fall from the Bifrost. The question becomes does he wish to carry on surviving?

“Yes.”

That is that then. Time to stop wallowing and start doing what he does best. Watching. Analysing. Making plans. He has a destination and an ally, at least temporarily. There is no way to know yet whether Peter is a friend or foe but the man strikes him as guileless for now and their interests are currently aligned. Given he is far from anything he knows, this is something Loki has to take advantage of. He slides the knives into his waistband and covers them with his shirt.

Peter does a double take when Loki makes his way back to the cockpit area and settles down unprompted into the co-pilot’s seat.

“Woah. That’s one hell of a shower.”

“Thank you again,” Loki nods his head, “I do not like feeling…like that.”

“Dirty? Yeah I get it,” a cursory glance around the sticky dashboard and crumpled food packets under the seats tell Loki he most definitely does not get that but he lets it go.

“Where are you from?” Loki asks, he plucks at the shirt, “I have not seen clothes like this before.”

“I’m Terran,” Peter says brightly but something runs underneath his words. Loki is so focused on that he nearly misses the key word there. _Terran_.

“Midgardian,” he says, something catching in his chest.

“What? No! Earth” Peter says it slowly, “It’s a little place, not much happens. You’ve probably never heard of-“

“I have heard of it,” images of the Destroyer laying waste to that desolate little desert town flash up in his brain, “I thought…Terrans have only barely made it to their own moon. How are you here?”

“Abducted by aliens,”

Peter flashes him a wonky kind of smile that makes Loki frown. He has the distinct impression he has wandered into something he doesn’t wish to see. He must still be sluggish from his injuries though because he continues despite all his senses telling him to stop.

“You were taken from your home,” Loki says quietly.

“My uh..my Mom died,” the smile has gone now, “And then suddenly these ravagers swooped in and picked me up. It was weird. Stuff like that doesn’t really happen on Earth.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Peter turns back to the console, his jaw tight, “I guess if they hadn’t taken me I wouldn’t have been a ravager and I wouldn’t have been out there on that planet when you were almost bug bait so it’s good for you right?”

“I don’t like the idea of my survival coming at the expense of such pain,” the words slip from Loki’s lips before he can stop them. To his shock Peter chuckles.

“That’s nice dude but the universe doesn’t work that way.”

_He thinks I’m naïve_, thinks Loki and before he can stop himself he is laughing too. Peter’s smile is back and it’s a relief. Hearing someone else’s troubles doesn’t distract from his own, it magnifies them.

“You know I looked up Knowhere when you were asleep,” says Peter.

“You misunderstood,” says Loki, “I meant-“

“Yeah I know what you meant,” says Peter, “If you don’t want to talk about it that’s fine. I just want to know if you’re a psycho or you have a bounty on your head or there’s anything else that might cause us trouble when we reach the outpost.”

Psycho? Some might say so. A bounty on his head? If Asgard knew he was alive they would want him in chains or worse. Anything else that might cause trouble? He was the God of mischief after all.

“No,” Loki smiles, “There is nothing.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Peter make the exchange but get more than they bargained for.

The space station Peter generously called an outpost looks like its held together by tape and spite. Trepidation fills Loki as they enter the rickety docking station and that grows into cold fear as a surly Achenonian looks over the paperwork that Peter produces. He fixes the pair of them with a scowl and waves them through customs.

“Don’t scratch my ship!” Peter yells but the alien has already turned to the next set of arrivals.

The station is a maze of corridors criss-crossing each other, winding upwards and downwards. Crammed either side of the walkways are trading tables stacked high with space ship parts and boxes of weapons stashed covertly underneath. There are stalls selling fried food, games of chance, collectables, and bowls of something sweet. Peter seems to know exactly where he’s going, weaving in and out of the crowd, not even sparing a glance for what’s around them. Normally Loki would be fascinated, he _is _fascinated, but he’s also a complete stranger here and without his magic for guidance it seems safer to stay close to Peter for now.

“What’s your plan?” he asks. They keep walking as Peter answers.

“Guy named Varaz runs the auctions here,” Peter explains, “He also uh keeps an eye out for other stuff specific customers might be interested in.”

Kree tech would fetch a good price here, Loki knows, whether or not the on-going war between the Kree Empire and the Nova Empire is in its final days. People like security and nothing says security quite like a three tonne plasma blaster that can turn carbon based life forms to dust in under two seconds.

“You trust him?”

“Nope but I trust how much he loves money.”

“Seems a safe bet,” smirks Loki. Some things are the same wherever you go.

The auctions are held in a converted warehouse space two levels down from where they are. On the surface it’s a legitimate operation run with the oversight of the station’s governing committee. In reality it’s nothing of the sort. As Loki looks around at the lots behind laser shields and in reinforced diamond sheet cases he wonders how much of this sort of thing went on in Asgard right under the Allfather’s nose. The Golden Realm prided itself on being free from all corruption but where there was power there were always those abusing it and always those craving it so who knew what dirty secrets were under the gilding?

Apart from the obvious.

To say the thought is an uncomfortable one is an understatement. There is too much for Loki to sort through in his heart and in his mind, its like his skin is straining from the tempest raging inside. Instead he concentrates on his surroundings, noting every little detail on every stranger jostling him. It has an oddly calming effect. There is anonymity here. He has spent so long in his brother’s shadow struggling to be seen but this is different, this is freedom from expectation. He cannot disappoint people if they don’t know what to expect from him.

They wind through the crowds until Loki spots a figure by the stage where the lots are called. The figure is watching them and Loki places a hand on Peter’s shoulder, nodding over to the figure when he turns.

“Varaz?”

“Could be.” Peter frowns. He has a hand on his blaster as he and Loki approach the hooded figure. Loki for his part has his daggers ready to go but is trying to be subtler about it than Peter. Maybe swagger would help or maybe it would kick start a fight.

“Star Lord?” the man in the hood draws out the words mockingly. If Peter feels offended he doesn’t let it show but he could just be pleased someone is using that ridiculous nickname.

“That’s me. You Varaz?”

He nods and beckons them to a back room. The door is pulled to but not locked which eases Loki’s anxiety somewhat but doesn’t make it go away. There are four other people in the room all armed to the teeth. Loki watched them as Peter lays out the weapons for inspection. There’s a variety of alien races here but the three biggest all look battle scarred and ready for a fight, their faces covered by masks and they’re dressed head to toe in combat gear. The fourth is smaller, their clothes less worn and their posture more tense than the others. All he can see under the mask is a pair of eyes darting back and forth between Peter and Varaz. As if they can sense him, their gaze falls on Loki, eyes widening. Fear. He knows fear when he sees it. There is something that sets this one apart from the others but before he can work it out the four slipped out of a door at the far end of the room. Unease settles over Loki but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it as Peter is handing over the weapons.

“How would you like payment?”

“Credits.”

Varaz hands over a card to Peter and looks briefly at Loki whose only response is a small incline of the head as they take their leave. His heart is hammering, something feels wrong.

“Friendly guy,” Peter scoffs, “don’t think we should hang around too long though.”

“Those people he was with are trained. They held themselves like soldiers and left pretty hastily.”

“All sorts of nasty business goes on here,” said Peter, “could do with something to eat but there are friendlier places once we’re off of the station.”

All of Loki’s senses are heightened as the make their way back to the docking bay. The crowds seem to have subsided which only adds to the creeping sense of vulnerability.

“We’re being followed,” he says to Peter who looks around wildly, “You can’t see them, but they’re there. Eyes front.”

“Someone knows we scored big with Varaz.”

“I think it is Varaz. Or at least the fighters he had with him.”

“So the plan is to attack us and take back the payment? He gets the weapons for free. Sneaky bastard!” If their lives weren’t in danger Peter’s outrage might be amusing. Clearly there was something to the notion of honour amongst thieves.

They weren’t going to make it to the ship on time and to make matters worse the crowds were completely gone and they were back to the narrow tunnels that connected the main outpost to the various docking stations. They were trapped.

“Get ready to fight,” Loki says as the turn a corner. There are two masked figures before them and Loki doesn’t need to turn to know there are another two behind. He hears their footsteps.

“Search them,” the biggest one says, “credits, valuables? Take the lot.”

“So we’re pretending that Varaz is not reneging on his agreement, you’re just run of the mill brigands?” Loki asks. A fire has been lit. Perhaps he’d been waiting for a fight; perhaps he’d needed it. He knows exactly what to do. Beside him Peter tenses.

“Hand it over.”

“No.”

“Dude?” Peter looks confused.

“We’re going back to the ship,” Loki declares, eyes glinting, “we’re taking our hard won credits, leaving this forsaken place.”

The biggest one’s face twists into a smirk. Loki isn’t the only one hoping for a fight.

“Kill them.”

Time seems to speed up and slow down at the same time. Peter is a blur behind him and all Loki can focus on is the fighter straight in front of him. He has to move fast, he is keenly aware of his lack of armour, and the daggers slip into his hands and move through the air like water before slicing into the fighter’s arm. There is the scent of blood in the air now and Loki moves without conscious thought. He remembers as a child he was never strong enough to face up to Thor or his friends so he honed his speed and agility instead. It’s paying off now as he dodges the blows and side steps the swipes with ease. In a swift movement he drives his dagger into the attacker’s neck and watches as blood foams from the mouth and he sinks down to the ground. There is a burst of light and one of the fighters falls to the ground with a thud behind Loki. Peter’s triumph is immediately cut short as another one of them grabs him from behind, fist slamming into his back. Peter howls in pain and Loki lets one of his daggers fly, catching the attacker across the face. Peter slams his elbow into the alien’s gut and then turns around to fire a shot into his chest. Three bodies lie before them, their blood pooling together on the floor and a few feet away the last fighter cowers in fear. It’s the smaller one, Loki notes, clearly not battle hardened.

“Take off your mask,” he orders. With shaking hands the fighter obeys and the mask gives way to a young, pretty face with bright blue eyes and waves of dark hair. Her skin is bright pink, like an Asgardian sunset “You don’t look like a mercenary,” Loki challenges her. Peter’s entire appearance softened as soon as she revealed herself, rather than being tense or aggressive, he relaxed.

“Way too pretty to be a mercenary.” Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Varaz sent you?” She nods, trembling.

“Business is struggling.” When she speaks it’s with a melodic voice. “With the war ending he’s losing money.”

“Killing clients is hardly the way to prevent that, “ says Loki, “it makes people reluctant to work with you if they think they won’t survive.”

“He isn’t killing clients, just you.”

“That hurts,” sighs Peter, “so now what?” he asks Loki.

“I can’t go back to him without the credits,” the woman says, “he’ll kill me. Or worse.”

Something twists in Loki’s chest, a pang of fear for the woman. It’s worrying, all his survival instincts should be overriding sentiment and yet here he is, concerned for someone who wanted him dead two minutes prior.

“Maybe we can take you somewhere?” The question is directed at Peter, it is his ship after all but from the way the man’s face lights up it’s no imposition.

“Yeah! I mean, sure. You can tag along. I was going to head to the Verma outpost after this, plenty for a bright young thing like yourself to do there.”

“Thank you,” the woman closes her eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her hands are trembling.

“It’s what we do,” smiled Peter. Since when? Loki wonders but he says nothing as the three of them half run back to the ship, eager to leave before someone finds the bodies. There is sense of relief when they are back in open space but it’s tempered by the uncertainty of what is going to happen next.

“What’s your name?” he asks the woman. He is with Peter in the cockpit, the woman sitting just behind, gazing up in wonder at the stars.

“Milena,” she says. She can’t tear her eyes away, her face bathed in light. It’s striking to see.

“That’s a beautiful name,” says Peter, oozing charm. It goes unnoticed and Loki wonders if she has ever been off of the station before now.

“How did you end up working for Varaz?” Loki asks.

“My father gave me to him as payment for a debt.”

Loki and Peter exchange a panicked look. Milena is still looking at the stars so misses their discomfort.

“When was this?”

“I was a child.”

“Son of a bitch,” mutters Peter, “we should have gone back and thrown him out of the airlock.”

For a while nobody speaks and then Peter sets the ship on a pre-set course.

“There’s a bedroom down below you can sleep in. Loki and I can bunk in the hold.” Milena looks between then.

“I…I do not like to be alone.”

“Oh, well then…” Peter’s voice deepens slightly.

“I don’t think that’s what she means,” says Loki, “you dislike the dark and the quiet?” Milena hangs her head.

“It’s silly,” she mumbles.

“And you’re gonna find space tricky,” says Peter. Loki nudges him.

“You could sleep up here. It’s light and the sounds of engine might be soothing.” Milena nods, teary eyed.

Loki and Peter move the crates stacked on the cot in the makeshift storage area beyond the cockpit and Milena disappears into the fresher as Peter casts around for sheets or something to provide modicum of comfort.

“I think you’re more her type than me,” he says casually, brushing dust off a sheet and then pushing it aside.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, bookish, clean cut, fancy. You’re James Bond whereas I’m more of your Indiana Jones type. Rugged and muscly. You get me?” Loki stares at him. “You don’t know who those people are do you? They’re Earth legends.”

“I catch your drift,” Loki says, blinking. This was not a conversation he expected to have at all. “She is traumatised and afraid. Hardly in the state for seduction.”

“It’s a rescue fantasy,” Peter says sagely, “we swooped in and spirited the princess away from the evil sorcerer holding her captive. With cheekbones like that you could totally be a fairy tale prince. Chicks dig that.” Loki hates not having a snappy retort. If this was Thor he would almost certainly be mocking Loki but Peter seems completely earnest and there is something disconcerting about being complimented so openly. It feels odd to say thanks so Loki just awkwardly fluffs a cushion he found wedged under the cot.

“It would be taking advantage,” he says finally, more to himself than Peter.

“In that case we should plan a night out when we reach Verma. There are these amazing clubs there and between us I think we have everything a woman could want.” Peter claps Loki on the shoulder. The idea of trawling through grubby establishments does not appeal on any level but there is something about the solidarity Peter implies that makes Loki ache a little. He fully expected to be left behind once they moved on.

Milena reappears and seems tearfully grateful for the bunk. Peter retreats downstairs with a wink at Loki.

“Good night,” he turns to her, the awkwardness creeping into his voice again. Loki moves to retreat and find somewhere else to sleep but Milena hovers, her hands clasped together.

“Will you…will you wait until I fall asleep? I know that is foolish but-“

“I used to ask my Mother to do the same thing.” Loki doesn’t know why he offers up such information so freely. A weakness sustained during his fall he supposes. “I will stay.” Relief floods Milena’s features. The cot creaks as she climbs into it and she rolls onto her side to face Loki.

“I don’t remember my mother,” she says sleepily, “She died when I was small.”

“I’m sorry.”

“She would not have sold me.”

“In my experience there is a chasm of difference between mothers and fathers.” The words come out more bitterly than he meant them to. For the briefest of moments his mind flicks to another mother, one he doesn’t know, and another father, dead at his hands. Loki pushes them away. The silence stretches on between them and just as he thinks Milena is asleep, she speaks in a soft, tired voice.

“I don’t know what to do next.”

That makes two of us, Loki thinks. Hardly an encouraging sentiment though.

“If you could go anywhere in the universe where would you?” he asks instead. Milena hums in thought.

“Home,” a smile spreads across her face, “I would find my sisters and keep them safe.”

“A worthy quest,” Loki smiles. Milena does not reply. Her breathing is heavy now, her eyes closed. It is an oddly comforting sight. “Sleep well,” he whispers but he doesn’t move to leave.

Verma is not as far as expected so they arrive less than twenty-four hours after leaving the space station. Milena’s armour has been traded for yet more of Peter’s cast offs but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I am taking your advice,” she tells Loki as they disembark. He tries to ignore Peter’s eavesdropping. “I am going to go home and find my family.”

“I wish you well,” Loki smiles. She is far stronger than she looks; it takes determination to survive what she has.

“I don’t know how to thank you both.”

“It’s what we do Ma’am.” Peter makes a gesture by his forehead. He is clearly emulating some Earth character Loki doesn’t recognise so for his part he just inclines his head with a smile, hand over heart. Milena beams at them both and to Loki’s surprise plants a kiss on each of their cheeks.

“Here.” Peter holds out a card similar to the one Veraz gave them, “One hundred credits should be enough to get you home.”

“I cannot accept such a gift,” Milena gasps.

“Well you have to.”

“It is Varaz’s money,” Loki says, “think of it as taking what you are owed by him.” Milena nods, taking the card with an awed expression. Loki watches her leave with lightness in his heart. He hopes that she can make her way back to her family, that she can find peace.

“It’s enough to make you tear up,” Peter slings an arm round Loki’s shoulder making him jump. “I mean not me. I don’t cry but for the emotional sort it gets you there.” He jabs at his chest. Loki hums in agreement, noting how glassy Peter’s eyes are.

“What happens now?”

“I mean if you have somewhere to be…” Peter trails off awkwardly. Loki knows that with a little while to scope out the place and some honeyed words he could formulate a plan and gather resources but he’s also acutely aware he would be on his own. Despite his nature that is not something he is used to.

“No, nowhere to be,” he says easily. Peter’s eyes light up.

“Great because after seeing you fight on the station I actually have a proposition.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quill lays out his proposition for Loki and they head off.

The Verma outpost is nestled into the side of a mountain on a rocky planet. The atmosphere is less tense than at the station. The streets are filled with ordinary people living their everyday lives. They head to the East District, which runs along the edge of a cliff and is stuffed with little bars and dining places. Outside most there’s people offering samples or musicians playing strange stringed instruments Loki does not recognise. Together they make beautiful sounds. They grab a table and order drinks and a plate of food the server recommends. It’s some kind of root vegetable roasted in oil with pungent herbs and a sweet, sticky sauce on the side for dipping. There is bread with nuts and seeds too and the drink is sharp and tangy.

It strikes Loki that he has never done anything like this before, just sitting and eating with a friend (the word surprises him as soon as it enters his mind. Friend. Is Peter a friend? Friends are something Thor has and Loki acquires almost by default). As a prince he could never just wander into the city and eat without a guard. He could accompany Thor and his friends once he was old enough or his parents finally got tired of his begging but it would never have felt like this.

“Have you been here before?” Loki asks. Peter nods, his mouth full of bread.

“It has a nice vibe you know?” Loki doesn’t, “It’s kind of quiet but not boring.”

It’s cultured, Loki thinks. He’s itching to look at everything in more detail. He wants to ask the server about where the food and drink comes from, what spices are used. Maybe if he listens hard enough he can pick up the language.

“So,” Peter drains his glass, “my proposition.”

The longing doesn’t go away but later on Loki will ruminate on how quickly his attention shifted in that moment. He’s intrigued. Is this how Thor feels when he gets roped into some quest? All his life Loki never really understood it. He pretended he did to sate his aching need to belong, to be included. Loki tries not to let his face betray him, he just nods slowly and waves the server over to polite ask for more food and drink.

“The band of ravagers I work for was contracted to steal this treasure right?”

Despite the fact that every instinct is telling Loki that the offer that follows is going to involve danger and recklessness and possible death, he leans in. He’s too interested now to even scold himself.

“Treasure?”

“It’s an orb, worth a lot apparently. It’s on a planet called Morag in some old creepy temple. The ravagers are finishing a job before they collect it. We’d have a day’s head start.”

“You want to double cross them?” Loki leans back, “How would that make us any different from Varaz?” Peter looks confused.

“It wouldn’t. But it would make us richer.”

“I thought the ravagers were your family?”

“They abducted me and then spent the next fifteen years threatening to eat me,” said Peter, “I worked like a dog for them even after they stole me and took me from everyone I even knew.” Something in Peter’s words sits uncomfortably with Loki. It’s too raw and too familiar. They are both stolen children. Peter may have grown up knowing it but they were both taken for a purpose and denied their freedom. This is about treasure and greed but it’s also about revenge and something singing in Loki’s blood wants that too.

“You could get it yourself, why include me?” Really he wants to know the chances of Peter stabbing him in the back.

“One, you’re good with a knife and there’s a small chance that others may be after this thing. Two, we did good work together on the station. Three, outlaws sometimes need to band together and I think our interests align.”

Is Loki an outlaw? He didn’t sure of the specific meaning of the word but its conjuring images of the wanderers his mother told him bedtime stories about. Warriors tied to neither lord nor land that went where they pleased, fought for coin, but nevertheless had a solemn moral code of their own devising. The idea is intriguing.

“What interests are those?”

“We both need cash to start a new life.”

There was no arguing with that. Without his magic he was limited in how far he could go and what he could achieve. Money would help while he decided what he needed to do in the long term.

“Okay. So we go to Morag and take this Orb. Then what?”

“I have a broker lined up. We split the cash 80/20.”

“50/50”

Peter laughed.

“No way man. My prize, my broker. I get the biggest cut.”

“My neck being risked,” shrugged Loki.

“70/30”

“60/40.” Loki grinned, helping himself to more food as Peter considered.

“Deal. But I call the shots.”

“Of course.”

They toasted to the venture and Loki felt a bubble of excitement well up inside in him. If Thor could see me now, he thought gleefully, what would he think?

As soon as the thought entered his head Loki regretted summoning it, the bubble of excitement popping and leaving a bitter aftertaste. He didn’t want to think about Thor or anything else connected with home. He drains the drink quickly before ordering another one. By the time they make their way back onto the ship Peter can barely stand but Loki only has a fuzziness overlaying his sense. It’s not enough to stave off the creeping sadness.

Peter stumbles down the hatch into his bunk, slurring goodnight. Loki takes the cot that Milena slept in the previous night and forces his mind to go blank in the hopes of ushering some kind of sleep.

_There is burning and freezing all at once as he falls. Except it isn’t really falling, it’s floating. There’s no air and Loki is desperate to breathe but he isn’t suffocating either. It’s still and dark and quiet so all he can concentrate on is the burning and the freezing._

_No._

_No._

_No, Loki._

_Odin’s voice echoes in his brain. Thor is there too and his mother. Their shame turns to fear as the blue tinge spreads over his skin. Alien markings swirl across the back of his hands. They hurt so much, it’s like someone is carving them into him with a knife. The fear turns to hatred and hands grab at him._

_Kill the monster._

_Slay the Beast._

_Burn it._

_Drown it._

_Take off its head._

It is the sound of his own shouts that wake Loki up and he manages to at least turn his head as bile burns his throat and he’s sick on the floor. Tears sting his eyes as he clumsily clears up the mess. Inside the fresher he looks at his reflection, pale and ill looking but at least not blue. The thought makes him shudder and another wave of nausea washes over Loki.

After cleaning he still feels a little sick and grimy but Loki doesn’t want to risk falling asleep and having another nightmare. He’s grateful that he wasn’t loud enough to wake Peter. Instead he sits in the pilot seat and stares through the window up at the other ships coming and going from the docking station. Some of the designs and markings he recognises but he does not. Perhaps if Asgard had not been so insular-

No, he doesn’t want to mull on any part of Asgard, good or bad or neutral, so instead he closes his eyes and focuses on his seidr again. It’s there, warm and solid but still dormant. Nothing he tries will rouse it. Normally when he draws on his magic feels it in every part of his body. Now it’s locked away and that hurts him more than anything else that has happened. Dejected, Loki stops. His eyes are getting heavy and he’s so tired. He would give anything to have his magic right now.

“Hey.” Peter shakes his shoulder gently, rousing Loki from a fitful yet mostly dreamless sleep.

“I’m’wake.”

“Uh huh totally. Get out of my seat. We have a orb to find.”

“How are you so…spirited this morning? Last night you were incredibly inebriated.” They shuffle around awkwardly so that Peter sits in the pilot seat and begins the take off procedure.

“Oh my head feels like someone set off a nuke inside it and I spent a good twenty minutes throwing up in the fresher,” says Peter, “I low-key wanna die. Oh hey! Loki. Low-key.” Loki blinks as he settles into the co-pilot seat.

“You’ve imbibed something.”

“Just to wake me up. It’s like an energy drink but you need like an iron digestive system to handle it,” Peter tosses him a can that Loki is alarmed to see is faintly buzzing. “I think it can give people brain damage.”

Have I traded one Thor for another? Loki thinks briefly.

“You’re alright to fly though?”

“Totally.” Loki gingerly puts the can down.

“You are a strange human Peter Quill.” Peter just beams at him as the engines roar into life and they head upwards, the brilliant blue of the sky giving way to an inky black. Loki looks down at the receding planet almost wistfully. He wishes he at least got the name of the roots they had eaten for dinner. Perhaps he can return one day? That’s is to say if this scheme of Peter’s is successful.

If there is a tension over the course of their flight neither mentions it. A few times Peter sets the ship on autopilot and closes his eyes, snoring softly. Loki for his part just watches the starts, counting them and finding patterns in an effort to stave off any anxiety. He can feel something prickling at the edge of his being and the feeling intensifies as they get close to their destination. After a little while of travelling Peter seems to pick up on Loki’s discomfort. He’s sober now (almost) and fumbles around with a rectangular box that he hooks up to the cockpit with some wire held together with tape.

“Usually I listen on my headphones but I rigged it so it can play out loud,” Peter beams, “Can’t go on an adventure without the right tunes right?” Loki is just about to ask him what the hell that means when music, though it doesn’t sound like any music Loki has ever heard, starts playing. Loki jumps a little.

_Hail (hail)  
What's the matter with your head, yeah  
Hail (hail)  
What's the matter with your mind  
And your sign an-a, oh-oh-oh_

“When I was a kid my Mom used to put together tapes of her favourite music for me. She’d play them in the car on the way to school or on vacation or sometimes she’d just dance around our kitchen. She loved music.” Peter leans back, closing his eyes, his lips forming the words to the song. Despite himself Loki mimics the action minus singing along. Frigga had done something similar with her favourite books and poetry. Art is the key to the soul, if you understanding the art another loves you can understand them she had told him.

“It’s good,” Loki’s words surprise himself. He likes the beat and the twanging of the stringed instrument. “I am unfamiliar with the music of Earth.”

“Dude we have the best music in the galaxy!” Peter’s eyes snap open. “Oh my God, okay, before we get to Morag you’re getting a crash course.” Peter delivers on his promise, playing through the entire tape about four times, skipping back to songs that Loki wants to hear again to catch certain lyrics and explaining who the bands are. Sometimes Peter mentions songs that aren’t on the tape so he sings them instead. Even though he’s terrible Loki finds himself enjoying those moments.

_I can see why Thor got of fond of the place so quickly_

The thought intrudes before he has a chance to stop it.

_No, stay out of this. _

Loki wants to keep this untainted by his old life.

“Can you play the song with the two adulterers again? The one with the fruit drink and raining?”

“Only if you don’t call it that,” said Peter, rewinding the tape. The song starts up again and this time Loki knows enough to sing along a little with Peter. The prickling feeling subsides until the planet comes into view and Peter switches off the music.

Morag lies at the edge of a binary star system. From above the planet looks desolate and the view doesn’t improve upon landing. The planet is in ruins. The rubble outlines of once great buildings fan across the ground like scars. Small creatures skitter out of holes and statues with limbs and faces blasted off stick out of the earth at odd angles.

Loki approaches one and peers at the crumbling face. He squints, taking in the marks meant to indicate an eye and the vague shapes on the torso that appear to have been armour. The faces were elongated. Korbynites? Kymellians perhaps? Whichever race called this planet their home they are long gone.

“Ready?” Peter asks, clicking his mask into place. Loki gives a small nod. His knives are concealed but accessible. Magic would be a far better weapon though. The prickling sensation has increased. It feels like there is static electricity all over his body. If Loki has access to his magic then he would be able to work out what it was but as it is he can only move forward with Peter.

“Looks deserted,” Peter remarks as they pick their way across a patch of thick vines. A small lizard with needle like fangs lunges for Peter but he kicks aside. “Almost deserted.” He manages to knock another lizard aside. It makes a bemused squeaking noise before scurrying off.

“Something terrible happened here,” Loki nods towards the statues and ruins, “I just hope this doesn’t concern the orb.”

“I’m like 67% sure that it’s not cursed treasure,” said Peter.

“That certain? How reassuring.”

“C’mon,” Peter grins, “It’s an adventure. A couple of badass outlaws hunting for treasure like Indiana Jones in space.”

“Who?”

Loki is thankful for Peter distracting him with the tale of a scholar with dubious practices raiding tombs and seducing every woman he comes across. It takes his mind off of the feeling of foreboding.

“So the Nazis – they’re the bad guys – open up the Ark and these ghost things whoosh out and everyone’s faces start melting and-“

“Is that it?”

“They stop at the entrance to the only building fully standing in the city. Peter checks the readings.

“Yup that’s it.” The bravado is gone from his voice now.

“Here’s to adventure,” Loki quips as they tentatively head inside. The first thing that kits him is the musty smell; the air is stale and burns his throat slightly. Carefully Loki and Peter move forward, checking their steps as they approach an altar at the far end of the temple. Everything is still and Loki has the distinct feeling they have broken into a grave though no corpse can be seen.

On approach the barrier atop the altar parts and reveals the orb. The gold markings are beautiful, reminiscent of ancient art that Loki has seen in books and yet something seems off. It’s like every instinct within Loki is screaming but at the same time he is too far away to hear the exact warning. He opens his moth to tell Peter they need to go but the orb is already in his hands.

“Halt!” the pair of them whip around, coming face to face with a band of fighters. By their armour and the augments they appear to be Kree. Peter swears under his breath and Loki eases a knife into his hand, arm behind his back, ready to strike if the need arises. “Hand over the orb.”

“To who?” Loki challenges.

“Korath the pursuer on behalf of the mighty Kree Empire. That orb is rightfully ours,” their leader boasts.

“Seems it belongs to the poor bastards whose bones are stacked up outside,” says Peter. His grip on the orb tightens slightly. Loki tenses.

“Who are you people? Raiders? Ravagers?” Loki looks askance at Peter who has puffed out his chest, made himself a little taller too.

“Star Lord.”

“Who?” Korath looks bemused. The smile on Peter’s face falters a little

“Star Lord, man. Legendary Outlaw.” The Kree look at each other as a small “Guys?” falls from Peter’s lips. He looks at Loki with a hint of desperation. Loki is too busy calculating their chances of making it to the temple door to be worried about Peter’s bruised ego in that moment.

“Hand over the orb!” Korath hisses and they advance to the altar.

“You want it?” Peter looks at Loki before throwing the orb in the air. For a moment Korath and his men just look confused and Peter takes a moment to let off a round of blaster fire before lunging forward to catch the orb. Loki leaps forward and slashes the fighter close to him with his knife while grabbing the other one from his waist man. The man crumples to the ground but Loki has no chance to move further before a second fighter aims his fist right at him. Loki doesn’t move quickly enough, the blow catches his shoulder, sending sick, shuddering pain down his arm. With his other arm, Loki drives his knife into an exposed slip of the man’s neck. Eye wide, he makes a gurgling sound and sinks to the ground scrabbling to pull the knife out.

“Loki!” Peter yells and flings the orb towards him. Ignoring the pain Loki catches it with his good hand and dodges the fighter hurtling towards him with a roar. Peter meanwhile had run ahead, clearing the way for Loki to run with the orb. Korath sprints towards him only to be clipped by blaster fire. “Faster!” shouts Peter. More blaster shots sail over Loki’s head as he throws himself across the threshold of the temple and Peter slams his fist into the side. They hear Korath’s yell of frustration, as the heavy doors slam shut.

“Looks like we aren’t the only ones looking for the orb,” Peter says breathlessly.

“This is more than treasure,” Loki holds it up.

“Whatever it is you can look at in on the ship. You okay, your arm?”

“I’m fine,” Loki winces as he tries to move it, “Or at least I will be. Let’s go.”

With a final look back at the temple they head back to the ship where Peter punches in the co-ordinates for Xandar. Loki barely pays attention, focused instead on the orb.

Not for the first time Loki wishes he had his magic. He feels as though the orb is trying to speak. Not with words of course but in the only way it knows how. Peter is focused on the flight and Loki knows how insane it would sound to someone unfamiliar with these things. All he can do is sit there and try and quell the strange mixture of fear and intrigue brewing like a storm within him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Peter run into trouble

The sound of Peter speaking fades away as Loki turns the orb over in his hands. He runs his fingertips over the intricate grooves and inlays, tracing the swirling patterns. There is a muted spark of recognition at the back of his mind, a picture from a book or passing mention in his studies long ago. Yet try as he might he cannot summon he memory forward. This is an old artefact, heavy with secrets and history. Loki knows that his magic would respond to it. To say is it frustrating is an understatement.

“Yondu I can’t do that, sorry.” Peter ends the call he was making. Loki catches a quick glimpse of an irate, bright blue face before the screen goes dead.

“Your ravager friends?”

“Not so much friends anymore, I think,” Peter winces. “You find anything out about the orb?”

“The markings seem familiar but I can’t place them. They’re in no language I’ve studied.”

“Is that a lot?” Peter’s question is genuine and Loki finds himself smiling.

“A few,” he says. He has always disliked relying on Allspeak to communicate. Language is like a map to another culture. They have always fascinated him.

“How’s your arm?”

On returning to the ship, Peter helped Loki shift his shoulder back into place and offered him a thick, greasy, balm to rub in before taping it up.

“It hurts to move but I’ll live,” Loki wiggles his fingers to demonstrate.

“Good. That was some impressive brawling there. Who taught you to fight?”

“My father made my brother and I train together as children.” The words slip out before Loki can stop them and he freezes. Peter doesn’t seem to notice. He takes the orb from Loki and tosses him back and forth between his hands, eyes following the arc.

“Brother huh? I always wanted a brother as a kid. Must have been nice to have someone to kick around with.”

“It was a long time ago,” Loki’s voice goes quiet. He feels very far away from himself in that moment. “They’ve gone now but their lessons remain.”

“Lucky for me!” beams Peter.“That Korath guy wanted our heads.”

Loki is grateful for Peter’s disinterest and annoyed with himself for being so careless. Why can’t he just leave Asgard and all its bitter memories alone? Why do they insist on rising up inside him unbidden? It’s like they have a hold on him.

“Why would the Kree want the orb?” Loki muses, taking it from Peter, “They are very proud of their history but it doesn’t look Kree in origin…”

“Weapon?” Peter suggests, “I know they signed a peace treaty and everything but word is not everyone is too happy about that.”

“Everywhere you go there are people who think that battle and slaughter are the only honourable traditions,” Loki sighs and tosses the orb back to Peter.

“War is money dude,” he shrugs. There is a heavy silence for a moment. “You wanna listen to some more music? We’ve still got a couple of hours before we reach Xandar.”

“Yes,” Loki says, more eagerly than he means to, “I would like that.”

* * *

“You failed to mention that your broker lives in the city that also functions as the headquarters for the Nova Corp,” Loki says as they step off the ship into the dazzling sunshine of Xandar. The city is bright and clean with sleek architecture and people of all races and species weaving through the streets.

“Dude we’ll be fine, relax,” Peter gives him a playful nudge as they head down the main street. “After we sell it we can go wherever we want.”

The use of we doesn’t go unnoticed and Loki doesn’t quite know how to respond. Luckily (perhaps), Peter doesn’t give him the chance.

“We could swing by Milena’s home planet if you like,” he smirks. Loki doesn’t answer and he pretends it’s because it’s beneath his dignity but in truth he has no idea what to say to that. Like so many other things Milena has been relegated to a box in his mind, sealed and stored away to be removed and examined like a scholar with an artefact.

The broker is a short Xandaran man with thick spectacles. His shop is set away from the busy main pedestrian area and inside it is cool and dimly lit. Loki stands behind Peter. Nothing about the situation seems dangerous but that now familiar sense of unease grows within him as Peter pulls out the orb and hands it over.

“What is this thing anyway?”

“I am not at liberty to divulge that,” says the broker. “My client has paid a substantial amount for my discretion.”

“That thing almost got us killed.” Peter jabs his finger at it. The broker twitches but doesn’t stop his examination of the orb.

“Killed how?”

“Some robotic looking guy by the name of Korath.” Peter frowns, “said he wanted it for the glory of the Kree Empire.”

“Korath?” The broker goes pale and he shoves the orb towards Peter. “He’s a minion of Ronan. Take it. Go. Now!”

Peter and Loki share a confused look and Loki plants his feet firmly, taking the broker by the arm.

“Who is Ronan?”

“A Kree zealot. An accuser capable of incredible violence. He wants nothing more than the obliteration of my people and my planet so forgive me if I am eager not to capture his attention!” The broker yanks his arm from Loki’s grip and continues shoving them towards the exit.

“Hey wait a sec, we went through hell to get that thing. You saying your buyer doesn’t want it now?” protests Peter.

“I’m saying I want nothing to with it or you or Ronan!” With that the door is slammed in their faces and Loki and Peter can do nothing more than blink at each other in the sunshine.

“I think it might be wise,” Loki says slowly, “to get that thing out of our possession as quickly as possible.”

“I can help with that,” a smooth voice says behind them. The woman is green skinned, her body taut as if ready to spring into a fight. The weapons on her belt reinforce that.

“Look sweetheart’” Peter can’t get the words out before the woman charges towards him. Loki attempts to pull Peter out of her way but is struck by something sharp on the side of his head. For a moment he sees stars and when the world stops spinning Peter and the woman are exchanging blows. Every so often the woman tries to grab the orb but Peter blocks her. Loki looks around for something he can use as a weapon. Nothing.

It’s a terrible strategy and he knows it, but without any other options Loki leaps to his feet and tries to attack the woman from behind, his dagger in his hand. She catches his wrist mid-air and knocks him back with a spinning kick, the end of which sends Peter to the ground to.

“The orb,” she bellows.

“What orb?” Peter pushes himself up to a sitting position.

“Do not play games with me. Hand over the orb and you and your friend can walk away now.”

“Oh this orb?” Peter pulls it out and the woman’s eyes widen. “You want it, go get it.” With that he throws the orb over the side of the walkway and it lands in a fountain below, surrounded by people. Loki is on his feet first and is able to slam into the side of the woman as she goes to run after it. He grabs Peter’s extended hand and pulls him to his feet. They run in sync down the walkway.

“Do you happen to have a plan?” Loki asks, as they are a short distance from the fountain.

“Does anything about this situation scream plan to you?”

A shadow passes over them and the woman lands a few feet away, a smirk on her face.

“Get the orb,” Peter hisses and grabs something from his belt. There is a crackle of electricity in the air as two small metal globes skid towards the woman and send up bolt of electricity. She screams, the sound half painful, half furious.

Loki meanwhile is fumbling around in the water. The orb is slippery and resists his grip. Then he hears it. All other sounds fade away and there is just one noise. Not a voice or a song but halfway between the two. It speaks to Loki but not in words. He feels the question deep inside him but he cannot answer.

The moment passes as Peter’s shout cuts through. The orb is in Loki’s hand and he gets the distinct impression that he has lost the past few minutes. Blinking he tosses the orb to Peter.

“We need to leave here.” Loki’s voice sounds far away to his own ears. Peter opens his mouth to respond but before can he’s in the air, upside down.

“I am Groot,” the giant talking tree declares. Loki has never seen a _Flora Colossus_ before and in any other situation Loki would be excited but in this moment the tree is shoving Peter into a burlap sack. Without thinking he leaps up and tries to loosen the tree’s grip on the sack.

“I am Groot!”

“Release him!”

“Nah this is our bounty.” The second voice catches Loki unawares and with a momentary lapse of focus the tree shoves him off. Loki finds himself staring up at a…rabbit?

“Bounty?”

“Yeah that’s right,” the rabbit aims his absurdly large weapon at Loki, “you got a problem?”

“No but I have money,” Loki says. “What’s the bounty? We can double it.” The rabbit frowns and the weapon lowers slightly to Loki’s relief.

“Are you shitting me?”

“…No?”

There is a roar behind them. The woman hacks at the tree’s limbs and the sack falls to the ground, a dazed Peter scrambling out.

“It seems there’s no longer any need for negotiation,” Loki nods to the rabbit and then breaks into a run, yanking Peter off the floor and half dragging him across the now crowded courtyard. The weave through people watching the fight. Some things, Loki thought sourly, were the same wherever you went.

“Er, who were those dipshits?”

“Bounty hunters. Someone wants you dead or alive.”

“Yondu. That son of a-“

The words are cut off in an explosion that sends them both flying. Everything goes black.

When Loki opens his eyes he sees blurry shapes. Men in uniform are carrying Peter, the woman and the two bounty hunters away. The explosion must have knocked Loki further away and he’s escaped their notice. Partly to keep it that way, and partly because his head is spinning and he feels like he’s going to be violently sick, Loki stays still.

His thoughts feel slurred and he struggles to piece together what he should do. Even when the officers are gone he lies there. The crowds thin out and a medical team is checking anyone caught in the blast or in the preceding fight. A young woman with bright blue skin comes to check on him.

“You okay there?”

“I…no…not really.” She helps Loki to a nearby bench and cleans the wound on his head.

“What was all that about?” he asks while she stitches up the cut.

“No idea,” she sighs, “you would have thought with the war being over there would be less danger, but I guess not.”

“Some people enjoy war. I’m sure there are those who are loathe to see it end.”

“Probably. These guys weren’t Kree though from the look of things.” The medic indicates for Loki to take off his jacket. His shoulder is excruciatingly painful and though she tries to be gentle removing Peter’s haphazard bandage, Loki feels like he’s going to pass out.

“This has been broken again,” she says, “I need to get you to the med centre to reset it.”

“No I-“

“You can’t walk away like this,” she says sternly and Loki has no choice but to follow her to a transport vehicle. He isn’t the only patient. The other three are Xandarans but only one catches his interest.

The broker sits opposite him with medical tape across his nose. He tries to avoid making eye contact with Loki the entire ride there but they are herded into adjoining cubicles when they arrive at the hospital.

A plan begins to formulate. What Loki needs now, apart from some strong painkillers, is information. Where is Peter? Who was the green woman? What is the orb and why does she want it?”

With a newly strapped up arm he waits until the doctor leaves the broker’s cubicle.

“You can’t be in here!” the broker splutters weakly.

“And yet here I am,” drawls Loki, “What’s the orb and why are people willing to kill for it?”

“I can’t-“

“I think the authorities here may be very interested to learn how recently you were in the company of Peter Quill, given how he was arrested. I think they would be even more interested to know you were conducting business with him.”

“You were there too!”

“I was buying antiques,” Loki says easily, “I just happened to be in your store at the same time to see you’re little altercation which then led directly to the attack by a woman that I am pretty sure is some kind of assassin. I would wager that you, however, are at least known by law enforcement. That kind of attention is not good for business.”

The broker swallows thickly, eyes darting around. Loki holds firm, an eyebrow arched, and an air of control and superiority projected around him.

“The orb is a vessel. It has something inside it, something very powerful.”

"What?"

“I don’t know. I believe it’s a power source of some kind.”

“Your buyer?”

“Anonymous but definitely not Kree.”

“So not Ronan,” says Loki, “but the green woman could be working for him or she could represent another party.”

“Unlikely,” said the broker, “I have found very little material on the orb and even less on what could be inside. I believe that few know about it.”

“But those that do are targeted, “ says Loki, “if I were you I would thinking about taking an extended holiday.” Peter still has the orb and it doesn’t sound like Ronan will relinquish his quest for it. Peter is in danger, serious danger.

“Now, second question. Where would they take Peter?”

“How would I know-“ Loki’s expression makes him shrink back in the hospital bed, “I can’t say for certain but the worst criminals are taken to The Kyln.”

“The Kyln?”

“A maximum security prison on a space station. Far removed from any other planet or anywhere life can be supported. It’s almost impenetrable,” the broker adds, “in case you are thinking of doing something foolish.”

“Ronan will tear the galaxy apart to fine that artefact and whatever it is, it’s powerful.” Loki remembers the voice, the strong feeling of sentience reaching out to him from the orb. It is powerful, far more than anyone knows.

He needs to get to the Kyln and find Peter. _Find the orb_, he tells himself but it rings hollow.

“It is madness to attempt such a feat alone,” the broker tells him.

“Are you volunteering?” A spluttering sound is his only response, as expected. 

Loki leaves the broker without another word and hurries out of the hospital, head down to avoid the security personnel. The last thing he needs is someone discovering who he is, he’ll be dragged back to Asgard in chains, and Peter will be lost.

Why does he care? He’s known Peter for only a few days. It’s nowhere near long enough to form an attachment worth risking his life over. Is he truly that desperate for a friend?

Outside the sun is bright and people are strolling along with friends and family. Loki tries to ignore them as he heads back to where the _Milano _is docked. Is he being foolish? Peter saved his life and fought beside him and treated him like an equal. Loki owes him. A small voice in the back of his head sneers that this is Asgardian honour talking, something _he_ was never afforded.

No, if nothing else he owes Peter for saving his life. It would be easy to take the ship and fly away somewhere but it would be wrong. Loki may be many things but he is no coward.

He doesn’t have a plan he realises as he sees the_ Milano_ just where they left her. No plan, no weapons, and no back up. No hope really, Loki thinks to himself as he heads inside.

He smiles to himself. He has always loved a challenge. Something seems to buzz under his skin as he settles in the pilot’s chair and punches in the take off sequences. He has done far more with far less in the past.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki comes up with a plan...of sorts.

Loki knows he needs a plan. His mind is whirring through all the possibilities as the ship heads towards the Kyln. The knot in his stomach grows tighter and tighter as he approaches. There is a perimeter of satellites ahead, surrounding an industrial looking complex with some small windows showing a walkway and a docking station. Aside from that it is impossible to see inside the prison.

_It couldn’t have been easy_, Loki thinks. The ship stops, hovering far enough away to avoid detection but close enough that he can use the rudimentary scanning equipment to gauge the approximate size and dimensions of the prison. The walkway must connect the docking station to some kind of processing area. That would be the easiest way in but he would be spotted. A disguise would be the obvious choice but he can’t cast illusions.

He can’t teleport.

He can’t restructure the walls so he can pass through it like air.

He can’t make himself invisible to all living creatures.

With a roar Loki slams his fist into the console. The pain spasms up his arm. It occurs to him that without his magic he needs to take better care of the limbs that aren’t broken but the thought is sour and heavy. He’s useless. His strength comes from his magic and without that he has no way to save his friend.

_Friend._

The word comes unbidden into his mind. Peter is his friend. His friend needs him. If he doesn’t have his magic what does he have? His silver tongue. His charm.

Hours pass as Loki makes meticulous observations about everyone who comes and goes from the prison. He notes the types of ship and how long they stay for. A plan begins to formulate. It is not one of his best but considering the time constraints and the materials at hand it will have to do.

Loki’s first task is to change. His Asgardian clothes are stored away, untouched since Peter first brought him aboard. They are clean but damaged from running from the insect like creatures on the planet he fell to from the Bifrost. It seems like a lifetime ago. It takes him a while to find thread and polish and there isn’t quite enough for what he needs so he concentrates on the sections that are visible and improvises a cape from some black sheets. Loki makes sure to wash them first and in the meantime he works on the second part of his plan.

This is harder. His unfamiliarity with this sector and Nova’s procedures means he isn’t sure of the most compelling words and phrases. To compensate he decides to play on that. It’s risky but it just might pay off. If it doesn’t then at least he won’t have to travel far.

With his finger hovering over the communication module, Loki briefly considers if this whole thing is worth it. He’s always been told he’s self-serving hasn’t he? And it would be easy enough to flee now instead of risking his freedom, and possibly his life.

Loki hails the prison. The speakers crackle and he takes a deep breath.

“This is a restricted area. State your name and purpose.”

“Fandral, servant of Asgard. I’m here to collect the prisoner.” His voice is smooth and authoritive. Loki pictures Odin giving one of his terribly dull welcomes to visiting dignitaries.

“What?”

“I said I am Fandral, servant of Asgard. That’s Fandral and Asgard with two As each. I am here on behalf of the Golden Realm to collect the prisoner you are transferring to our custody.” There’s a pause and Loki thinks he can hear whispers.

“We haven’t received orders of any transfer. Prisoners don’t leave the Kyln.”

“Odin Allfather received assurances from Nova Prime herself,” said Loki. He paused. “Didn’t she send a raven?”

“A ra-hang on.” There were more whispers that grew into a muffled argument.

“This prisoner…” A different voice spoke this time.

“His name is –one moment- Peter Quill.” Loki enunciated each word carefully. “He is wanted for high crimes against the throne of Asgard. The King respects the authority of the Nova Empire obviously but the acts he committed were so heinous that Asgard demands payment in blood.”

Another long pause.

“O-oh. Okay.”

“No, not okay.” The first voice hissed. “We can’t just hand over a prisoner!”

Loki sighed.

“I was assured that the authorisation had been passed down to your superiors. Nova Prime gave her word. After everything that has happened with the recent ceasefire after years of conflict Asgard was assured that word was good. I…I cannot think any good will come of me reporting this misunderstanding to His Majesty. “ Loki allows a note of panic to enter his voice. “The King is quick to anger and ruthless in his treatment of those he feels has betrayed him. If we are lucky then we may be the only casualties of his wrath.”

“Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. Wrath?” the first voice spluttered. Loki was pretty sure he could hear a soft ‘oh god, oh god, oh god’ over the speakers. He smiled then smoothed his features.

“It is unfair seeing as your superiors are the ones who clearly made the error but the King’s anger often misses it’s mark. We as lowly servants are easy targets.”

The speakers crackled with a sharp intake of breath.

“Dock the ship and have the papers ready.”

They hadn’t fired on the ship so Loki supposed he should consider the first part of his plan a success. How however, he was going into enemy territory. The docking station was grimy yet bare. A glassy eyed alien was mopping up something that looked suspiciously like blood as Loki disembarked the ship. He held his head high and puffed his chest out, looking like someone who was exactly where he wanted to be. Two guards strode towards him, the expressions on their faces a mixture of suspicion, annoyance, and fear. Perfect.

Anywhere you go in the galaxy you can be certain of one thing: there will be underpaid and undervalued people under the heel of whoever is running the place and they know the system better than anyone. If Loki had been in possession of some credits he would have simply traded them for Peter so instead he would need to appeal to something else. With a gracious smile, Loki bows.

“Friends, thank you for letting me aboard. I know between us we can come to a resolution that benefits us all.”

“Management told us nothing,” the bigger alien half snarls. He is tall and lizard-like, muscles straining under his uniform. “Vraghk” is printed on the metal badge on his chest.

“Those types never do, do they, “ Loki sighs. “I mean it’s not like it’s their heads on the line. On Asgard as little a thing as un-shined boots gets you flogged everyday for a week.” He rolls his shoulders a little and winces as if an unpleasant memory has just reared and then he shakes his head to dispel it. Reaching into his cloak he produces a scroll with a flourish. The runes are nonsense to anyone who can read them which rules out those outside of the nine realms. It is official looking though and Loki knows Odin’s seal well enough to replicate it closely. Vraghk frowns, his confusion is obvious but so is his worry.

“This prisoner…”

“Quill,” Loki explains, “The Nova Corps sent word when they apprehended him for causing some kind of disturbance on Nova Prime. Details are…sketchy I suppose you could say. Personally, given the kind of things he is charged with on Asgard it would have been better if he stayed here but Asgardian justice cannot be thwarted.”

“What kind of things?” the other alien, Nimmick according to his badge, asks with wide eyes.

“A list as long as my arm,” Loki half whispers, eyes glinting, “Murder, degradation of a corpse, cannibalism, unnatural acts…”

“Unnatural acts?”

“I cannot even begin to describe them.” Loki shakes his head. The two guards look at each other. Nimmick has a somewhat pleading expression while Vraghk looks like he has a particularly nasty case of indigestion.

“It’s…complicated to get prisoners out of gen pop,” Vraghk says slowly.

They take Loki across the walkway he spotted from outside. He spots Peter’s belonging on a bench in a room off the side but doesn’t stop. He can ask for those on the way out. The orb is probably there but first he needs to get Peter. They turn down some winding corridors and come out on a kind of observation deck that over looks the main area of the prison. It reminds Loki of a gladiatorial ring. The inmates are all wild and dangerous looking and it appears as if a fight is either brewing or has just ended. It’s hard to tell. Loki scans the crowd, keeping his face blank. Then he sees Peter huddled down in conversation…with the green woman? And the rabbit?

A sense of panic begins to rise in Loki and he nods to Vraghk.

“That’s him down there. I need him now.”

“Peter Quill!” Vraghk bellows into a microphone. All movement below ceases and Peter looks up in shock. Then he sees Loki and grins. Loki scowls in return.

_Play along. Play along. Play along. _

An alarm sounds and two heavily armoured guards raise their weapons at Peter and order him up the stairs. He turns to the rabbit and the assassin, makes some kind of placating gesture before walking up towards them, arms raised. At least he had adopted a more appropriate expression Loki thought sourly.

The doors open and Peter is shoved inside.

“This one here,” Vraghk points at Loki, “is here to take you into his custody. Apparently Asgard hasn’t forgotten what you did.”

“Yeah well they wouldn’t would they?” says Peter, eyes flicking up and down Loki. “It was pretty awesome.”

“Degradation of a corpse is awesome?” Nimmick splutters.

“These people have very different moral compasses to us,” Loki says. “But have no fear. He will be swiftly dealt with. If I could have his belongings transferred onto my ship then I will leave you to your fine work.”

“Wait!” Vraghk barks. His eyes are fixed on the prison area. “Something’s going on down there.” Loki glances at Peter who looks sheepish.

“I didn’t think you’d make it here,” he whispers, “I kind of made a deal-“

Sirens start wailing simultaneously across the entire prison. Through the windows Loki can see the _Flora Colossus_ripping a piece of equipment from the watchtower opposite.

“Damn it Groot,” Peter hisses.

“It’s a riot!” Nimmick squeaks. The prisoners have begun brawling, all the guards on the floor have retreated, and drones are being readied. “What do we do? What do we do?”

Vraghk’s gaze flicks from the riot to Peter and Loki. Something rises inside Loki and he holds up a hand.

“We had a deal. I have the prisoner. Let me-“ He can’t see. Vraghk has sprayed something at the pair of them and the next thing Loki knows he is being shoved down the stairs. He swears violently. When he opens his eyes everything is blurred and it takes a moment for everything to come back into focus.

“You came back?” Despite the mayhem around them Peter was grinning at him and for some bizarre reason Loki could not fathom, he found himself smiling back.

“It was a poor rescue but I think it may have worked if-“ he gestured to the tree who was now heading towards them. “So what the Helheim is going on?”

“Okay it’s a long story but the crib notes version is we’re gonna sell the orb and split the money with Groot here, Rocket and Gamora in exchange for us all getting out.”

“I am helping.” Loki jumps at the sound of a deep voice.

“This is Drax,” Peter gestures at the alien, “he doesn’t want the Orb he just wants to kill Gamora.”

“Who?”

“The green chick that wants to kill me!” It’s all too much with very little making sense to Loki but it’s also irrelevant right now.

“So what’s the plan?” he asks.

“I have to steal a guy’s arm. Rocket and Gamora are getting a bunch of stuff and we have to not die.”

“I am Groot.”

“Then we meet here and get into the watchtower.”

“Why do you need an arm?”

“I have no idea but the raccoon is some kind of genius and is building us a way out.” Before Loki can respond and hulking mass of fangs and muscle hurtles towards them with a scream and Peter shoves Loki out of the way while Groot extends his limbs. He scoops up the creature and flings into the roof like it’s a bit of paper. It falls down with a nauseating crunch a few feet away.

“That is disgusting,” says Drax with interest. Blaster shots sail over their heads and they break into a run.

“That’s him, that’s the guy with the arm I need.” Peter points upwards.

“I am Groot!”

“He says Rocket is joking,” Loki translates, “the arm is unnecessary and we must go.” Something explodes nearby and cuts off their escape route. The guards have entered with mechanised suits and fire indiscriminately into the crowd. Something hot whooshes past Loki’s face and melts the metal behind him.

“You said we need to get to the watchtower, yes?”

“Yeah Rocket has a plan to get us to the cargo bay. We need to steal a ship and then-“

“No we have the _Milano_.” Peter is saying something but Loki can’t hear it. Everything is filtered out while his brain scrambles to find a way to get them all to the watchtower. The staircase have bee blown to bits and the wall-mounted cannons have been activated. The all dive out of the way of a blast and scrambled backwards to escape the firing. Drax tears through a host of guards that advance towards them. He rips off the metal limbs like they’re nothing.

Gamora sprints towards them, pausing only to dispatch two other prisoners. She holds another piece of something made of metal and wires.

“Got it!” She frowns when she sees Loki. “You?”

“Later,” says Peter. “We need to get up there. Where’s Rocket?”

“You bozos haven’t got my arm or my escape route yet?” The creature is hot on Gamora’s heels. Groot flings another guard over their heads.

“I am Groot,” he says indignantly.

“He has a point,” Loki mutters and screws his eyes shut. Prisoners fall around them and another wave of guards advance. They are penned in. They’re going to die, Loki realises.

No. He has survived too much to die like this. There must be a way. There has to be way.

“Get behind me,” Peter shoves Loki back and grabs a gun off the fallen guard in one single movement. The words are careless. Easy.

_We are not going to die here._

The thought is clear like a bell and it doesn’t come from Loki’s conscious. It comes from somewhere deeper. The same place that his magic is bound and with the thought comes a shifting. The shackles move. No they don’t move, Loki realises, a grin splitting his face, they loosen.

He feels the golden gaze upon him as his magic swells and the binding shatters.

“Hold on!” he yells and just as the others turn towards him in confusion, Loki reaches out. Green magic swirls through the air and dancing on the skins of those around him. Something lurches as matter and space are displaced. In one moment they are on the ground, guards bearing down on them and in the next they are in the watchtower. The air is still shimmering around them, around Loki most of all. Peter is trying to say something but Loki cannot hear it.

He sees Heimdall standing on the ruins of the Bifrost, a frown on his face.

_Loki?_

Almost instinctively Loki cloaks himself, as he has done so often before. Heimdall is gone and he is on his knees, Peter leaning over him.

“Hey talk to me buddy, you okay?”

“If he could do that the whole time why were we running around like mad people?” asks Gamora.

“Who cares?” Rocket grabs the collected items and begins hooking them up to the control panel.

“The witch looks like he’s going to pass out.” Drax points at him. Loki swats his hand away and shifts round to a sitting position.

“Not a witch,” he mumbles.

“But you did just, you know…” Peter waggles his fingers. Loki laughs giddily which does nothing to ease Pater’s concern.

“Yeah I did,” Loki chuckles. “I honestly thought I couldn’t anymore.”

“I am Groot?”

“It’s a long story and I am honestly not entirely sure about the mechanics,” Loki shrugs.

“Okay how can you speak to the tree?” Peter asks. Loki waves off the question. Something clicks and the sounds of rioting stop. Everyone looks out the window in awe. Loki gets to his feet. With each minute his strength is returning.

“Impressive.” Rocket has turned off the gravity. The guards and few remaining prisoners float around aimlessly.

“It’s not as impressive as teleportation,” Drax nods Loki’s way, “but it will do.” Rocket mumbles something under his breath and the pod on the watchtower detaches.

“You’re going to need to explain this bargain you made in more detail,” Loki tells Peter as they manoeuvre towards the docking bay.

“Only if you explain how you did actual magic!” Loki smiles at him.

“Deal.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki examines the orb and the group runs into a problem.

Every few minutes Loki checks that the cloaking charm is still holding. The image of Heimdall’s eyes is burned into his brain. It was the briefest connection with the golden realm but Heimdall definitely saw him, which means that Odin knows Loki is alive now. As does Thor and Frigga. The realisation makes Loki’s insides churn and he sits in the co-pilot’s seat wringing his hands together.

One blessing is that within the hour the _Milano _is out of the system. Yes, Heimdall knows Loki was at the Kyln and a short conversation with those bumbling guards will confirm that. They’ll also find out about Peter, Loki realises, and they’ll probably demand access to his records, which will in turn tell them about Peter’s ship, which is all too traceable which-

“You’re kinda in your head a bit bud,” Peter says quietly. “Your uh-“ he makes the wiggling fingers motion which has become shorthand for magic, “thing tire you out? Do you need to like heal or something?” The concern takes Loki by surprise and some of the anxiety wanes just a little.

“I’m just concerned I may have drawn attention to us with my escape plan.”

“Breaking out of a prison kinda raises alarms however you do it,” snorts Peter, “I owe you one. The magic was really cool too.” If the concern was surprising then Loki isn’t sure how to describe Peter’s awe of his magic. On Asgard it was seen as a crutch to make up for his lack of skills as a warrior. Here, with Peter it’s…cool. (Loki would die rather than admit such but he isn’t entirely sure what that means but Peter’s tone suggests it’s a compliment).

“So you ready to help me try and get these jerkwads on the same page?” Peter jerks his thumb towards the main body of the ship where the tension around their newly acquired crew is thickening with each passing moment.

“Not remotely,” Loki sighs, “but what choice do we have?”

“That’s the spirit!”

How had Peter managed to wrangle these people together? Despite everything Gamora seems like she is still moments away from going for his throat, Drax looks like he wanted to tear her apart. Rocket thinks they are all idiots and had the air of someone who would happily slit all their throats while they were sleeping if it would net him a payday.

Loki watches them all carefully. Only Groot seems happy to have them all here. There is more going on under the surface of that one, Loki is sure.

“So you want us to go to your guy with this thing?” Rocket scoffs, “How can we trust either of you?”

“A daughter of Thanos can never be trusted. She will kill us and take the orb for Ronan,” seethes Drax.

“Hey now we talked about this,” Peter moves between Drax and Gamora. Loki himself would be inclined to let Drax have his revenge. Peter only gave him the short version. A slaughtered wife and daughter. Ronan’s bloodthirsty need for domination had left a mountain of bodies in his wake.

“I want Ronan and my father dead more than anything,” Gamora hisses through gritted teeth. “Trust my hatred. As for the Collector…we can’t trust him but he is the person mostly likely to know what this thing is and he’ll pay us for it.”

“Wait The Collector?” All eyes go to Loki. He’d remained quiet throughout the heated debate. “The Collector is a madman. The orb isn’t safe with him.”

“It would be out of Ronan’s hands!” argues Gamora, “What do you know about The Collector anyway?”

“I know he’s a lunatic driven by greed. He hoards magical artefacts that he has no way of controlling. That thing-“ Loki points to the Orb in Peter’s hands, “- is dangerous. The broker told me there’s something inside it. He thought it was a power source but I think it’s something else.” They all look at him expectantly. Loki sighs. He may as well be honest. “When I was getting it out of the fountain I…heard something. It spoke to me. My powers were bound at that point but it must have been sensitive enough to detect my Seidr.”

“Your say what?” Peter asks, confused. Drax meanwhile has taken the orb and is holding it to his ear, frowning.

“Seidr…magic though technically-“

“I hear nothing,” Drax declares.

“It isn’t hearing in the literal sense.” God it’s like talking to Thor. “It’s deeper.”

“Gas,” nods Drax.

“No! It’s a resonance. It’s…” he trails off because this is going nowhere. “Look it doesn’t matter. What matters is we can’t just hand this over to someone without knowing what it does.”

“Why?” asks Rocket.

“It could be a weapon,” Gamora nods slowly.

“Yeah I still don’t get it. You promised us a payday Quill.”

“Are you gonna use magic again?” Peter asks excitedly, crossing over to stand next to Loki, “You’re gonna do a spell and make it talk.” Loki opens his mouth to protest but actually that is almost exactly what he plans to do.

“I need some floor space,” he says, “I’m going to draw runes.”

“I wouldn’t get down there if I were you.” Gamora looks distastefully down, nudging rubbish out of the way with her foot. “Quill this ship is disgusting.”

“You have no idea! Put a black light on this place and it will light up like a Jackson Pollock.” They all look at him for a moment.

“Can we just make room please?” Loki sighs.

Loki isn’t used to working with an audience but he’d be lying if he didn’t say that he liked the interest in his work. If he’d tried drawing a scrying circle in front of Thor the best outcome would be his brother getting bored and wandering off. As a child there was many a time Thor had raced in and smeared the runes either to drag him away to play a game that he wanted or because he didn’t want Loki wasting time on something “stupid and girly”.

“Your picture is very pretty.” Drax breaks the silence. “But how will it reveal the orb’s secrets?”

“It’s a scrying circle. The orb will go in centre and this spell-” Loki indicates the intricate patterns of runes around it, “-will send a kind of energy into the orb and then I can see how the orb responds.” It is a ridiculously over-simplified explanation of the process but Drax still looks bewildered.

“What else can you do with magic?” Peter asks.

“Anything I suppose,” Loki says as he finishes the runes.

“Blow stuff up?”

“Yes.”

“Walk through walls?”

“Yes.”

“So…you could be the galaxy’s greatest thief?” Rocket asks, a grin creeping onto his face.

“…Yes.” Loki draws out the word.

“I am Groot?”

“Yes there is a whole school of magic devoted to that. On Vanaheim-“

“Are you done? We need to know what this thing is capable of.” Gamora cuts in.

Loki takes the orb and places it in centre of the circle. He presses his fingers to the large rune at bottom centre point and allows his seidr to flow into the markings. They glow with a warm white light and with a tiny note of pride Loki sees they are looking at him with awe. The light gathers around the orb and it lifts slightly from the floor. Then it opens.

A deep purple gem sits in the centre and before Loki can register what’s going its power flows out to meet his own. It wants to tell them a story and as it does recognition hits Loki like a hurricane.

“It’s an Infinity Stone,” he says in a hushed tone.

“What’s that?” Peter asks. He moves closer to get a better look and the others follow, crouching behind Loki. An image appears in the air above them - an explosion of light and colour that reforms into galaxies and nebulas.

“At the dawn of time there was a great manifestation of matter and primordial beings used the energy from that manifestation to create six stones. Alone they each represent a different yet immeasurably powerful fundamental element of being.” Six coloured lights shine in the image of the universe above them.

“What?”

“The Time Stone, the Space Stone, the Reality Stone, the Mind Stone, the Soul Stone,” with each name one of the stones shines a little brighter, “and this is the Power Stone.”

“Power huh?” Rocket mumbles, “I kinda like that.”

“Alone they grant the wielder power beyond imagining,” Loki explains and the images change. Tyrants and heroes across time and space attempt to harness the power, “but it’s wild and unpredictable. Few survive being a stone keeper.” The figures burn up as the light intensifies. Peter has to shield his eyes. “They keep trying though and some go beyond that. They say that whoever can gather all six stones at once can become like the beings that created the stones at the dawn of time. They will have the ability to literally change the nature of existence.” The stones above them come together in a circle and their power flows outwards. Planets disintegrate and reform. Trillions of people wiped out, the dead rise, suns and moons collide.

Then the image fades and the power stone settles back into the orb, which clicks shut. Loki draws his power back and everything is silent for a moment.

“That’s what he wants,” a tear is rolling down Gamora’s cheek. She jerks from Peter’s grasp as he reaches out to her and backs away from them all. “My entire life, since Thanos took me from my home he has always talked about thing. Balance.”

“Balance?” Drax asks. His fists are clenched.

“He came to our planet, divided the people into two groups and then slaughtered one so the others would not have to fight for resources. He called it the perfect balance”

A sick silence fills the cabin.

“That is insane,” Loki says quietly. He gets up from his kneeling position, wiping his hands.

“That is why they call him The Mad Titan,” Gamora gives a wry laugh and wipes her eyes with the heel of her hand. “Excuse me.”

None of them make a move to follow her and Loki knows he isn’t alone in feeling a shiver of desperation, of uselessness as he watches her walk away.

“I…I am Groot,” Groot turns to Loki, pointing at the orb.

“Most likely,” Loki sighs, “Ronan is a puppet of Thanos so if Ronan wants the orb its at Thanos’ bidding and from what little I’ve heard so far he hardly seems the type to stop at one stone when the option of unlimited cosmic power is out there.”

“I say we give it to this Collector jagoff, take his cash and then go on our merry way,” Rocket declares.

“I am Groot!” He looks scandalised. Loki can’t help but agree. They are uniquely placed to stop something very dangerous being used by someone completely lacking remorse and compassion. Who knows where Thanos would stop?

“Why? Why do you care so much? These people you wanna save? They don’t give a shit about you or me or any of us losers! We need to get to Knowhere and make this thing someone else’s problem.”

“You’re a twisted little bastard you know that?” snaps Peter.

“I’m right is what I am.”

“I am Groot!” Groot taps Loki on the shoulder and points to an alert flashing on the ships intercom. It brings up a message that makes a cold feeling rise in the pit of Loki’s stomach.

“What is that?” Drax appears at his elbow.

“The Kyln is gone,” nods Loki. With a sick lurch of his stomach Loki realises at least one problem has been solved. Asgard will not be able to track him beyond the twisted wreckage of the prison. A pang of guilt reverberates through chest as he reads the rest of the report. “A few hours ago an unknown force came, slaughtered all the prisoners and personnel, and then blew up the entire prison. No survivors. No trace of who or what they were looking for.”

“Ronan,” Drax closes his eyes and moves away.

Rocket is silent, a scowl on his face.

“He followed you to the Kyln,” Loki says to Peter. “He’s coming after us.”

“He’s coming after Quill,” says Rocket. “Maybe you if he knows you guys are palling around. The rest of us are fine.”

“I am not fine. I will have revenge for my wife and daughter. Let Ronan come.”

“He has an army dude!” Peter rubs his temples. “Fuck what are we gonna do? We can’t take on all Ronan’s guys and even if we could Thanos would just send more. We can’t dump the orb because then Ronan would just go and kill whoever picks it up –“

“How is that our problem?” Rocket looks like he’s about to start tearing his fur out. Everyone ignores him.

“We have a head start. Not much but enough to keep a little bit of distance between us and Ronan,” says Loki, “that’s something.”

“We could throw it in a blackhole or something but Ronan would probably still want revenge. He’d - is that the communicator?”

“A message is going out from the ship,” says Loki, “where’s Drax?”

“I am Groot!”

“He’s hailing someone!” Peter yells as they charge to the front of the ship. No one had seen him slip out and make his way to the cockpit. Dimly, Loki hoped he wasn’t doing what he thought he was but that hope was dashed.

“We’re here! Come and fight me! Come and show me how great a warrior you are!” Drax bellows into the comms. Peter slams his fist into the button as Loki and Groot attempt to drag Drax away. He fights them ferociously, wrenching his arm from Loki’s grasp. Groot’s arm extends and twists round Drax’s neck and arms to try and keep him still.

“You fool!” Loki yells. “You imbecile! The one advantage we had was that Ronan didn’t know where we were. We had a chance!”

“I don’t want a chance. I want revenge!” Drax choked out.

“You’re not likely to get it before Ronan kills us all,” snaps Loki. With a roar of frustration he kicks the co-pilot’s chair and sends it spinning.

“We need to get out of here,” says Peter.

“What’s the point? We’re as good as dead now.” Loki groans. Drax slackens in Groot’s grip and the branches slowly recede.

“I did not think…”

“Yeah you didn’t think you big blue moron,” snarled Rocket, “Oh boo hoo your wife and daughter died. So what?” Groot gasped. The rest of them are too stunned to say anything.

“Oh please!” Rocket yells. “We’ve all been through shit. You think I wanted to be cut apart and remade like a monster?” He yanks up his shirt and shows them bolts embedded in his fur. Peter looks away but Loki can’t. “You think that your suffering is special compared to all the other suffering everyone else has through huh?”

Drax hangs his head, speechless.

“I just saw that a message went out,” Gamora runs into the cockpit. “Please tell me you were hailing help.” Their expressions tells her all they need to know.

“We could take the stone to Xandar,” Gamora says weakly, “ask the Nova Corp to hide it in their vaults or-“

“Newsflash genius. We’re wanted criminals on Xandar. You think they’re just going to let us waltz up there with a super weapon?” says Rocket.

“We need help from somewhere,” Loki drags his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots, “Thanos has an army. We need one too.”

The comms alert goes off again, making everyone jump and exchanged anxious glances.

“Ronan wouldn’t hail us if he’d caught up,” Gamora frowns, "Quill who is it?” An odd look comes over Peter’s face as he checks the screen.

“So, there’s good news and bad news,” he says. “Good news is it’s not Ronan.”

“And the bad news?” Loki asks.

“It’s the ravagers.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More bargains are struck

“So, there’s good news and bad news,” Peter says. “Good news is it’s not Ronan.”

“And the bad news?” Loki asks.

“It’s the Ravagers.”

“The Ravagers you double crossed and then who had a bounty put on your head? Those Ravagers?”

“Yup,” Peter draws out the word. “They’re coming up fast.” The entire ship shakes as the Ravager vessel passes over and latches on. Well at least an insane Kree zealot won’t torture them, thinks Loki, though from what little Peter has told him it’s not clear whether Yondu is of sounder mind.

“Any chance you can negotiate?” Loki asks. Fighting their way out isn’t an option based on the size of a crew needed to maintain a ship as large as the one that just docked. This doesn’t seem to occur to anyone else though.

Rocket has hefted a huge grenade launcher onto his shoulder and Groot adopts a fighting stance behind him. Blades have materialised in both Gamora and Drax’s hands. Peter glances at him before pulling out his gun. Instinctively, Loki feels his seidr rising within him and raises his hands in anticipation while runs through possible defensive manoeuvres to protect the others.

It would be puzzling to Loki to consider how easily he shifted into this mind set if they weren’t facing down imminent death.

The ship shakes with sound of heavy footsteps as the Ravagers breach. The blue alien taking up the pole position must be Yondu Loki realises.

“Boy you really think you can stop us taking this ship?” he drawls, “I got an army back there and you got…” he gestures dismissively. Loki feels his muscles tighten. “You betrayed me. After I saved your life-“

“You abducted me,” Peter snaps.

“I raised you!”

“You threatened to eat me. A lot!” Gamora turns slightly and shoots Loki a confused look. All he can do in response is subtly shrug his shoulders and return his focus to Yondu. Something in the way the man moves tells him he’s not going to kill Peter. More than that, he doesn’t _want _to kill Peter. Behind Yondu a ripple of anticipation runs through the Ravagers. They want a fight, the bloodier the better and Yondu is treading a fine line while simultaneously trying to conceal that.

There is an advantage here.

“As heart warming as this reunion is-“ Loki cuts through the argument, “I would suggest that we turn our attention to our mutual problem.” All eyes turn to him, some in confusion and some with contempt.

“Our mutual problem?” Yondu drags each word out and he strides towards Loki. “As far as I can see y’all are the ones with the problem. Not me.”

“That Orb you wanted to steal-“

“The one Peter took first?”

“Exactly. Well it turns out that the Kree terrorist Ronan, who’s in the employ of an even more dangerous individual called Thanos, wants the orb.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

“No it’s definitely an us problem. I’d go so far to say it’s an everybody problem because Ronan has already demonstrated he will tear apart anyone who stands between him and the orb. That includes the other parties after the orb. Like you.“ The words hand in the air and Loki watches Yondu considering his options. Behind him the Ravagers start whispering amongst themselves.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” says Loki.

“So you steal from me and then you want to team up?” laughs Yondu. “What’s in it for me?”

“The orb,” Peter cuts in. “You help us stop Ronan and then we go our separate ways and you get to keep the orb.”

“Quill no!” Gamora gasps

“I think it sounds fair,” Loki says easily. He turns to Drax, Groot and Rocket, “what do you think?”

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah, yeah I guess it’s better than dying,” sighs Rocket.

“If I am dead I cannot have my revenge on Ronan,” Drax nods.

“What do you say Yondu?”

“Do you morons have a plan?”

“We absolutely do not have a plan,” Loki says. They are huddled below deck under the guise of taking stock of the equipment they will need for the plan that doesn’t currently exist. “But we do have time to come up with one now and we have backup for when Ronan arrives.”

“None of that is as reassuring as you think it is,” says Rocket. Loki bites back an acidic response. They don’t have time to fight amongst themselves right now.

“We can’t destroy the stone,” says Gamora, “we can’t let Ronan get the stone, and we can’t hide the stone. So what can we do?”

Loki straightens as Gamora’s words spark something. He bites his lip. It’s dangerous and may not even work.

“That’s your idea face,” says Peter, “please tell me you have an idea.”

“I heard a story once,” Loki says slowly, “about one of the other stones. The reality stone was used in the war between Asgard and the Dark Elves. It manifested as something called the Aether. The dark elves lost and the stone was taken from them and banished somewhere beyond existence so it could not be sensed or tracked down by even the most powerful of magic. “A smile creeps onto Loki’s face. “A pocket dimension.”

“Cool let’s do that!”

“It isn’t that simple,” Loki shakes his head. “It involves creating a miniature alternate dimension outside of space and time. Restructuring existence, even on a relatively small scale takes a lot of power and skill.”

“You are too weak to do it,” say Drax. Loki grits his teeth. Technically yes. It would be like asking a human being to bear the weight of a mountain on their own. That is the complexity and magnitude of the task but it still stings even f he knows Drax is not deliberately belittling him.

“What I can do-“ Loki moves on without comment, “-is try and exploit a pre-existing gap in dimensions. It’s easier to expand a pre-existing pocket dimension than create a new one from scratch.” They look at him with varying degrees of confusion.

“So it’s like…widening a doorway?” Gamora asks. It is nothing like that.

“Yes exactly,” says Loki, “so we need to find a doorway.”

“And there are a lot of these?”

“More than you would think,” says Loki, “but that only solves the orb problem. Not the Ronan problem.”

“Or the homicidal Ravagers problem,” adds Rocket.

“We call Xandar,” says Gamora, “Ronan will want to head there anyway and we owe it to them to let them know what we face. We lead the Ravagers there and there’s two forces who can oppose Ronan.”

“It’s a distraction,” a grin creeps onto Peter’s face, “they fight each other while we stash the orb.”

“Sounds like there’s a minimal chance of success and we’re all gonna die,” Rocket folds his arms across his chest. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”

“I am Groot!”

“Yeah but why?”

“I! Am! Groot!”

“Yeah. But. Why?”

“To get revenge on Ronan. Tear his bastard head from his worthless body,” says Drax.

“Our main objective is to stop anyone from getting their hands on the stone,” Loki cuts in, “the fate of the galaxy is at stake. Maybe even the whole universe.”

“Yeah but-“

“I swear by my fallen ancestors if you say that one more time I shall not be held responsible for my actions,” Gamora snaps. Rocket holds up his hands, rolling his eyes. The rest of them exchange looks. An alliance has been forged, one that sets them against not only the Ravagers ready to tear them apart but Xandar and Ronan too. Not to mention Thanos. Loki says nothing but deep down he knows the Titan will not be easily dissuaded from his ultimate goal. Those with delusions of greatness such as his rarely do. That is a problem for the future however. Now they must survive this battle.

Loki appreciates Peter’s ability to lie and placate Yondu. It almost rivals his own silver tongue. Almost. The Ravagers are placated for the moment with the promise of all the loot they can scavenge from the wreckage of Ronan’s ship if they help bring it down. Then Peter sends word to Xandar, arguably the most unpredictable faction in this little gamble. All they can do is pray that their erstwhile enemies see sense.

Rocket starts modifying weapons and demanding parts to make adjustments. He’s a bloodthirsty little creature, Loki notes, he would be at home in the Asgardian warrior brotherhood in some ways. In others of course he knows they would revile him. Loki finds himself considering the sort of procedures Rocket was subjected to and it makes bile rise in his throat. It also takes the edge off of any offence or frustration Loki might feel.

“You want one?” Rocket holds up a blaster he has just finished working on. Loki takes it. It’s light in his hand though the grip is unfamiliar. If he does not fight with magic then he fights with his daggers, once a sword, but nothing like this.

“I think someone else might do it more justice,” Loki says handing it back. Rocket tilts his head and sweeps his gaze up and down.

“You got a story kid,” he says eventually.

“Don’t we all?”

“Yeah but yours is a doozy. And I don’t mean because of all this,” Rocket mimics Peter’s earlier gesture of wiggling his fingers to indicate magic. “I mean you’re doing a real good job of running from something and trying to be something new.” For a moment Loki feels something lurching inside of him, a twisting sense of panic. Then he considers Rocket.

“Again,” Loki smiles, though it isn’t unkind, “aren’t we all?” There’s a small pause before Rocket lets out a low chuckle.

“Figured you wouldn’t like the gun,” he turns and rummages into one of the metal bins he’s filling with modified weapons before producing two daggers and holding them out towards Loki. They’re objects of beauty and Loki almost gasps as he takes them. The blades are curved, and a vein of gold runs along each one. They flash like lightening as Loki turns the daggers in the dim lights of the workshop. The hilts are warm, the grip is good, and their weight is perfect in his hands. He can feel something else buzzing in his hands, they’re more than just daggers, Loki realises with a kind of giddy excitement.

“These are the greatest gifts I’ve ever received,” he says with slight bow, “I shall wield them with pride Rocket.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rocket waves him off but there is a note of something new in his voice.

“Hey guys,” Peter appears in the hatch above them, “Ronan is catching up with us. Loki we should head to the _Milano_.”

“Any word from Xandar?” Loki asks, grabbing Peter’s outstretched hand and heaving up to the next deck.

“Not yet but maybe the lines are busy?” Peter says. Rocket’s harsh laugh still makes Loki wince.

“They’re gonna leave us all to die I’m telling you.”

“Don’t say that!” Peter hisses as they make their way back. Rocket rolls his eyes before jumping into a lighter one-man craft. Groot is already on board the _Milano_. Drax and Gamora are in another small craft of their own to provide cover. Yondu fixes Loki and Peter with a scowl before they cross to the other ship.

“Remember if you double cross us again boy I’m gonna skin you alive and make you watch while we salt and eat your hide,” he calls. Peter gives two thumbs up in return.

“If it means anything,” Loki says, taking the co-pilot’s seat, “I think he is bluffing when he threatens to kill you. He merely wants to save face with his crew.”

“Yeah that doesn’t mean anything but thanks for trying buddy,” Peter claps him on the shoulder before dropping out of autopilot.

The quiet void of space only serves to intensify Loki’s nerves. It’s too calm for them to be on the edge of a battle, especially one this ferocious. Loki feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I am Groot?”

“I just need to concentrate to try and find a fissure I can expand into a pocket dimension,” Loki says, “I am fine.”

“I am Groot.”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t believe you,” Peter snorts. Groot nods solemnly.

Loki ignores them both and heads to the back of the ship. He sits cross-legged on the floor and draws runes in the air around him. He concentrates on his breathing, the soft thud of his heart and blocks out everything else: the roar of the engines, Peter and Groot’s shouts, and the distant sound of blaster fire. Ronan and his forces are approaching but he can’t deal with that now. Instead Loki lets his mind drift. He doesn’t try to guide his thoughts; he merely lets them float like clouds across a calm sky.

Then when he is suitably relaxed Loki reaches out, feeling rather than seeing. He feels a pulse around the orb and he moves away. There are many cracks in the vastness of space that they are currently hurtling through by the battle that has erupted around them makes it too difficult to focus on them. In the distance Xandar rises and Loki turns his attention there. It has been millennia since the planet discarded magic for science, unaware of how closely the two are linked. The fractures in existence are faint, more like scars that have sealed shut. It would take too much to open them.

The ship lurches, stunning Loki out of his reverie.

“What’s going on?”

“I AM GROOT!”

“What do you mean crashing?”

“Ronan’s goons blew out one of our engines,” Peter calls back, “Gamora and Drax are trying to told them off.”

“How far are we from Xandar?” Loki rushes to the front. The planet lies before them. The skies are empty, there’s no re-enforcements, no back up. As the blackness of space gives way to blue Xandaran sky, Loki’s heart turns to ice. They’re going to die. Ronan will obliterate them all. Worst of all they have entered the atmosphere of a planet full of civilians and fully unprepared for Ronan’s wrath.

“They…they aren’t coming?”

“No look, over there!” Peter points and across the curve of the horizon comes a wave of small craft in perfect formation. The comms crackle and a voice unfamiliar to Loki calls out.

“Quill this is Denarian Saal, we received your alert and will cover your landing.”

“They got my dick message!” Peter says with glee. Loki doesn’t even want to know what that means, he’s just relieved they have a chance. “Copy that Saal, though I’d keep your distance for a moment, our friend Rocket has something special cooked up for Ronan.” Loki raises a questioning eyebrow. “Lots of civilians down there, figured we’d save more people if the_Dark Aster_is in pieces before it arrives.”

As if on cue the air shakes with a deafening boom and the shock waves hurtle the _Milano_off course. Alarm blare and lights flash red as Peter tries to right the ship. As it jerks around Loki glimpses Ronan’s ship out of the window. Or at least what’s left of it. The _Dark Aster_is essentially a fireball now but Loki spots a small rescue pod zipping through the smoke. Ronan.

“You should think about finding that cosmic crack ASAP buddy,” Peter winces. “Making impact in 3…2…1”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation and a journey somewhere new.

The world shakes and Loki’s ears ring as he stumbles out of the _Milano _with Groot and Peter. His spinning head can’t seem to right itself, making the possibility of using his magic to sense a fissure in space practically impossible. The others have landed and come running over.

“We must get ready to fight,” says Gamora, nodding to the incoming rescue pod. “Loki we can but you some time but it won’t be much.”

“Unless Rocket has another one of those mega bombs?” Peter asks. Rocket shakes his head.

“Do you realise how difficult it was to make one of those things?”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Loki closes his eyes and sways. Nausea crashes over him like a wave.

“You can do this, I know you can buddy,” Peter grips his shoulders, giving Loki a little shake. “Look at how you got us out of the Kyln. It’s just like that!”

It’s infinitely more complicated but Loki tries to control his breathing as Ronan’s pod slams into the ground and the other’s race towards it. It’s too noisy; Loki’s heart is racing too fast. Peter was wrong, he can’t do it. His friends are going to die because of him.

Ronan sends them flying backwards with some kind of staff. He’s abnormally strong and fast, even Thor would struggle against him Loki realises. He races forward and flings one of the daggers Rocket made for him into Ronan’s neck. It sparks and sends electricity flooding through the Kree’s veins. Ronan rips the dagger out, breathing heavily.

“I will make a spectacle of your deaths,” he hisses, “I will lay your corpses out as warning to every Xandaran. It will be the last thing they see before they greet oblivion. Their so-called Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Drax runs forward with a scream, his wife and daughter’s names on his lips like a battle cry. Ronan slams the staff into him and blood spills on the ground.

“I remember you. Wretched creature. You shall join the rest of your pathetic people soon, you monster.”

Loki sees white, his skin seems to prickle as the rage rises. Yet with it comes clarity.

“The orb,” he hisses to Peter. Peter just blinks and Loki takes the opportunity to thrust his hand in Peter’s jacket and pull the orb out.

“You’ll kill yourself!”

“But I’ll take Ronan with me.”

There is a flash of purple light and it takes Loki a moment to register what happens. The stone is in his hand and the power is flooding Loki’s system but Peter’s hand is on his wrist. The power flows into them both and they’re screaming as it tears them apart. Then Groot is holding on as purple fire burns his branches. Gamora, then Rocket and then Drax, injured and bloodied all hold on, making a chain through which the power is dispersed.

“Impossible,” Ronan gasps, “how?”

“We’re the god damn Guardians of the Galaxy,” says Peter.

Two things happen simultaneously and the universe twists and mirrors itself. At one angle a burst of power erupts from the group and ploughs straight towards Ronan. At another angle Loki feels the power well up inside him and without thinking he sets it to purpose. His seidr guides the power stone’s energy to slice through existence and then expand, creating a pocket universe. It should have killed him, torn him apart like the stone is currently doing to Ronan but it doesn’t. Loki is reminded of being a child and blowing bubbles with soap and a gentle puff of air. With the stone’s magic flooding through Loki’s veins creating the pocket dimension takes the same amount of effort.

It’s invisible but Loki can feel it stretch out, far greater than what he intended. At the same time another sensation builds. It’s like music except he can’t hear it. The stone is calling to its sisters across the universe. They are scattered but they can communicate as if they are together. It is simultaneously the most beautiful and frightening feeling Loki has ever experienced and a tear burns his cheek as it falls.

The purple light is brighter now, Ronan is screaming and Loki feels like he will die if he holds on for much longer. The pocket universe solidifies and then everything goes dark.

He is still on Xandar. Loki can feel the wind on his face and the presence of his friends but he is also somewhere else. Every wall, the ceiling and floor is carved from marble but through gilded arches on each wall Loki sees a lush grassy plain, a pale blue mountain topped with snow, a thriving forest and a lake with water so still it looks like a mirror.

“Are we dead? Say we aren’t dead,” Peter pleads. His voice echoes off of the walls and the sound makes Loki stop for a moment. Then he notices Peter’s eyes. They’re black as the void of space and filled with as many stars. He is radiating energy the likes of which Loki has never encountered before.

“What? Something in my teeth? Does that even happen in heaven?” Peter asks and rubs at his mouth with his jacket sleeve.

“Your eyes…they’re black…” Loki says. To his surprise Peter doesn’t look bothered. In fact he looks a little relieved.

“Oh is that a death thing? Is that why you’re blue with those swirly patterns?”

The air seems to leave Loki’s lungs in an instant as he holds up his hands and sees the intricate jotun markings raised on azure skin. His hands fly to his head where horns protrude from his hair and as they travel across his face he feels more markings on his cheeks.

“Loki?”

“No, no, no, no,” Loki whispers, his fingers still tracing the alien markings. A mirror that definitely wasn’t there a moment ago stands in the corner of the room and he can see the monster in all its hideousness, the very image of his childhood nightmares. The eyes are the colour of blood, the hair black as ink and far longer than before and the horns glint like obsidian.

“Why do you look so awesome and I look like I have bad contacts in?” Peter grumbles as he appears over Loki’s shoulder, “being dead sucks ass.”

“What do you mean?” Loki splutters. “Look at me! I’m a frost giant!”

“A what?”

The words stun Loki into silence momentarily. On Asgard every child knows about the Frost Giants. Word of their warlike ways and hideous practices must surely have spread to other parts of the universe and yet Peter looks at him blankly.

“Frost giants,” Loki repeats, “of Jotunheim?” Recognition blooms on Peter’s face.

“The ice planet? I mean I’ve heard of it but I’ve never met one. I mean, I guess they don’t travel off world much because there’s so few of them right? I mean so few of you. Shit, was that offensive? Actually, I thought it was offensive to call them Frost Giants. No, yeah definitely. You’re not supposed to call them that. Though…I guess it’s okay for you…” Peter’s voice trails off and a look of concern colours his features as Loki’s head snaps back and firth between his own reflection and Peter.

“They told us the Jotuns slaughtered people by the thousands,” whispers Loki, “they ate their children when there wasn’t enough food. They rape and pillage and torture and…”

“Dude isn’t Jotunheim like…a wasteland?” Peter frowned.

“I’m a monster.” It’s half protest, half question and Loki starts as Peter puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey buddy, you’re not a monster. I mean you’re blue and you have crazy magic powers but you also saved my life a whole bunch of times and broke me out of prison and you just helped save a planet full of people who wanted us locked up. Again. That doesn’t sound like a monster to me.”

Loki looks back at the mirror. The creature is still there but he sees the pain behind it’s eyes.

His eyes.

“I never knew,” Loki tells Peter, still studying the mirror. “I grew up thinking I was from…somewhere else and then one day…”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I was adopted and lied to and my whole life I was told that the Fr- that the Jotuns were monsters.”

“That’s pretty shitty,” said Peter, “but it’s also wrong and I hope this doesn’t offend you but whoever told you that is a massive dick.” Loki snorts with laughter before he can stop himself, clapping his hand across his mouth.

“I would like to see you tell him that to his face,” he chuckles. Loki looks at himself again. Seeing his jotun reflection laughing, standing side by side with a friend is alien but in that moment it is not horrifying. It’s still a lot to take in however so he turns to Peter.

“My glamour is innate, I’ve been using it my whole life without even realising,” Loki explains, “it must not work here because the pocket dimension is brand new. The laws of this place are still undecided.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have the power to create a whole new one yourself.”

“I don’t,” Loki shakes his head, “but that thing did.”

The power stone sits in the open orb, atop a pedestal of swirling gold and glass that, like the mirror, was definitely not there a moment ago.

“So we’re not dead. Did we teleport?”

“No I think…” For a moment Loki resists saying it out loud because it will sound crazy. On consideration however this whole adventure has been one crazy experience after another he shrugs. “I think it drew on the abilities of the other stones, specifically time and space. It stopped time on Xandar where we were fighting Ronan – or more specifically exploding Ronan at that point – and then it allowed us to be in two places at once as the power stone gave my magic a boost so I could create this.” Loki lifted his arms and turned, gesturing to their surroundings. As the reality of it all set in he felt himself getting giddy. No sorcerer for a millennia had achieved what he had.

“That’s wild,” said Peter. A gross understatement, Loki thought but he was so proud of his accomplishment he let it slide. “So that explains where we are and why you’re blue but what about this?” Peter pointed to his eyes, “and also I’m pretty sure you said the stones destroy whoever uses them. We should be dead.”

Peter’s right and the giddiness subsides a little as Loki thinks.

“Perhaps the answer to both questions is the same,” Loki says slowly. “You grabbed my hand as I activated the stone and absorbed some of the power. By rights a human shouldn’t be able to do that. The others held on too but they joined the chain after you started dispersing the power. The question is how.”

“Yeah how? That’s what I wanna know.”

“Are you sure… you’re completely human?” Loki asks and Peter laughs in disbelief before his face freezes in confusion.

“What?”

“If you are something else that may explain why you were able to direct the stone’s power without it killing you,” Loki says. For moment there is only silence as Peter stares at the floor.

“Huh, that would explain a lot actually,” Peter says finally. Loki is stunned, he was bracing himself for a more violent outburst, for anguish and even despair. “So my mom said my dad was a being of light or something. But she was really sick so I figured she was confused. You think he was some kind of alien or mutant?” Loki shrugs. It feels flippant given the circumstances but apparently Peter is far more resilient than Loki is so probably doesn’t mind. Loki wishes he could feel that way, that he could face the universe with the same ease as Peter.

“Anything is possible I suppose,” says Loki, “Earth has received visitors from across the universe for thousands of years. Your father could have been one of them.”

“Huh”

“Are you…alright?” Loki asks.

“It’s a lot,” Peter says, “but we also nearly died and now we’re in a pocket dimension – which is super nice by the way with the fancy gold stuff and the outdoors – I think it’s all really…” Peter makes a swooping gesture with his hands and puffs out his cheeks, “I think maybe I’ll just process it all later.”

It’s a good call and while Loki’s initial horror at his transformation has subsided a little (he still can’t look in the mirror however) he is aware of his physical presence on Xandar. If they leave the stone here it will be safe and virtually undetectable but Ronan has already been hit by enough power to tear him apart. In addition Loki isn’t sure how long they will be able to withstand the Power Stone despite Peter’s abilities.

“We should leave for now,” says Loki, “our friends need us.” As if in response they begin to fade away and the sensation of being on Xandar strengthens.

The return hits Loki like a wave. The Guardians release their grip and Loki falls forward onto his hands and knees. There is still energy crackling in the air and before them what remains of Ronan is a smouldering heap.

Ships fill the air above them and a crowd begins to form around them.

“We need to split. We got no booty, the corp are on our asses. We’ve gotta go. Groot get in the ship,” Rocket points to the small craft. Groot stands. Loki sees that small white buds are dotting his body. “Groot now!”

Groot shakes his head as he heaves himself to his feet and stands with Gamora and Drax. Loki and Peter join them. They are bloodied but the hurt is minimal considering how bad it could have been. To Loki’s elation he is no longer blue and Peter’s eyes have returned to normal.

“You really wanna stick around?” Rocket sighs. “Even if it means getting arrested?” Groot gives a small smile and stretches his arms over the group.

“We are Groot,” he announces. Loki will deny feeling his throat get a little tight and his eyes stinging in that moment but in the future he will acknowledge in that moment he felt a peace that he hadn’t felt for a long time.

“So are we a team now?” Peter asks.

“Like you said, we’re the Guardians of the Galaxy”, Loki grins.

“I am proud to call you my friends,” Drax declares. “The rat creature is my friend, the giant plant is my friend-“

“I am Groot!”

“-the pretty witch man is my friend-“

“Excuse me?”

“The human dude is my friend and the green whore is my friend,” Drax finishes but the words are drowned by Rocket and Gamora’s outrage and confusion from the others.

“I think what Drax means is stuff like this brings people together and we clearly work well as a team, and we have a connection now” Peter says. He winks at Gamora who rolls her eyes.

“The Nova Corp owe us,” Gamora folds her arms as they watch delegates from said corp land a few feet away and disembark their ship, “that should be enough to earn our freedom.”

“They’ll want the stone,” Rocket says. “The Ravagers too. Where is it?”

“Safe, “says Loki, “but we can just tell them it was destroyed when we used it on Ronan.”

“Yondu’s gonna be pissed.”

“We’ll just need to talk our way out again,” Loki grins.


	10. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beginning

The Nova Corp buy the story about the Stone’s destruction though their disappointment at the loss of such a powerful artefact is evident. Luckily, their gratitude for the Guardians stopping Ronan eclipses this, and as an added bonus it affords them protection from the Ravagers.

For now anyway.

There are medals, which Rocket likes especially and the _Milano _is repaired and even gets a few upgrades. An agreement has been reached; the Guardians are going into business together. Word has spread about the fight with Ronan and stories are painting them as outlaws and vagabonds that swoop in save the day and then ‘ride off into the sunset’ as Peter puts it. His newfound fame has out a spring in his step, along with Nova Prime’s confirmation of Loki’s theory. He isn’t fully human but the can’t identify where his father is from. Peter handles it well, adopting it seamlessly into Star Lord’s mystique.

There is something about being on the edge of a new adventure that makes Loki’s blood sing. He wants to go. As much fun as it’s been to bask in Xandar’s gratitude the safety of the planet is beginning to feel claustrophobic. There is also the added worry that Asgard will hear of what happened and draw a connection with the massacre at the Kyln and Loki will be pursued.

He is never going back. He would rather throw himself off of the bifrost again than return to Asgard. It’s a freeing decision. When the Xandarans ask his name to engrave the back of his medal he answers “just Loki”. Not Prince Loki. Not Odinson or Laufeyson or of Asgard or Jotunheim. There is scope in “just”, an infinity of untapped potential, and a path to be forged.

“Asgard has a long memory,” Nova Prime beckons him to one side as they prepare to leave. Loki keeps a blank face but he steels himself internally. His freedom has been hard won and Loki won’t hesitate to fight for it. “It’s not a threat,” she says as she hold her hands up, “it’s a friendly warning. Asgard doesn’t like to relinquish anything it sees as belonging to them. That includes its history, its treasures…and it’s Prince.”

“I’m aware,” Loki says icily. He glances at the others who are trying to stop Rocket from interrogating a corp officer about the legitimacy of murder.

“Do they know?” Nova Prime asks. Loki looks at her, it’s answer enough. “Do you think they would care?” she asks again, more gently this time. There is something about her that reminds Loki of Frigga for a brief moment but he pushes that aside to ponder her question. Truthfully, Loki isn’t sure and deep down he wouldn’t want to risk it.

“I am not Asgardian, they have no authority over me,” Loki says firmly, “and I no longer have an allegiance to them.” Nova Prime tilts her head and an irksome expression he cannot read crosses her face.

“Half Asgardian is Asgardian enough,” says Nova Prime, “but as I said this is not a threat. I am grateful for your and your friend’s aid. Without you millions of our people would have died and my silence in regards to your true identity is the least I can give.” Loki isn’t sure how to respond. There must be some kind of trick or angle but she just smiles warmly at him. It’s disconcerting.

“Thank you,” he says eventually and he gives a small bow that she returns.

“What was all that about?” Peter asks as Loki joins them and they head onto the _Milano_.

“More thanks,” Loki rolls his eyes, “honestly it’s getting tiresome.”

“For you maybe," Rocket clambers into the seat behind Loki’s. Groot settles next to him. “I think I could get used it. It would have been nice if they’d put a parade on or something too.”

“What next captain?” Gamora asks. Peter positively glows at the address, mouthing the word at Loki who can’t help but smile.

“There is a whole universe out there for us.”

“We could steal something,” suggests Rocket.

“Or continue our quest for vengeance,” Drax adds. Loki turns around in his seat and looks at him.

“Ronan is dead.”

“Ronan was working for Thanos,” Drax says almost non-chalantly, “he’s who I must kill.” He then turns to peer out of the window leaving Loki to look at Gamora. Her expression is unreadable.

“I for one would like to undertake something with a lower chance of death than hiding an infinity stone from a genocidal maniac,” Loki says turning back. He doesn’t mention that they should be on their guard. The stones are communicating and that can only herald something universe changing in the future. For now though they deserve some relief.

“Alright, we can do a little bit of bad, a little bit of good or a little bit of both,” Peter fires up the ship and the blast off of Xandar.

“A little bit of both seems to be our forte,” Loki settles down in his seat, watching the stars stretch out around them. There is a murmur of agreement and the team heads into space, ready for almost anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story and left feedback. Every one of your comments has made me feel like I'm going to burst with joy!
> 
> There are a few threads left hanging here and I will return to this series! In the mean time you can find me on tumblr @illegalcerebral and I'll be posting things here!

**Author's Note:**

> **I only post my work to AO3 and tumblr. If you find this story posted on other platforms it has been stolen and reposted without my permission **


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